The Tale of Jaiden Tabris
by Genjutsu-Dragon
Summary: How the Hero of the Fifth Blight rose from nothing to become a legend - and found unexpected companions, and love, on the way. Fem!Tabris/Leliana. Update: A curse is broken.
1. Violent Beginnings

**Chapter One of what I hope will evolve into a full-length fanfic chronicling the journey of Jaiden Tabris from alienage elf to the Hero of Ferelden. I don't have a beta reader (if anybody wants to volunteer, please message me!), so forgive any errors I've missed. This will be Fem!Tabris/Leliana, so consider fair warning given. There will be no graphic smut, unless I rip off Snafu1000 and do bonus chapters, but it may get a bit gory. Well, it's Dragon Age, after all :) **

** Disclaimer: Anything you recognise is Bioware's, save the odd literary quote I might throw in. Jaiden Tabris is (tenuously) mine. Hope you all enjoy.**

** -Genjutsu-Dragon-**

**O**

_The guards lay dead at her feet. Blood splattered her, gore dripped from the weapons she had somehow effectively wielded in her blind fear. Soris was saying something to her, but she dropped the sword and dagger to the floor, the clanging drowning him out, as she began to frantically scrub her hands against her dress. She had taken a life…oh Maker, she was a murderer, she would never get out of this place alive…Soris was trying to calm her, but the alarm in his eyes bought the realisation home, and she looked again at their butchered corpses. She had flown into a frenzy, hacking wildly, terrified. Soris had not had a chance to fire his crossbow. She was a monster, she had erased their existence and enjoyed it…she spun around and threw up in the corner._

Jaiden Tabris shifted in her bedroll, moaning. Her fists were clenched and by the dying embers of the fire Duncan could see sweat standing out on her forehead.

_ She stepped forward into another unfamiliar corridor, praying she was heading the right way. The armour she had stolen seemed to weigh a ton and she sounded dreadfully loud. What if they were heading away from her cousin? She picked up the pace, becoming careless. Barrelling through a door, something clicked beneath her foot, and she just had time to register it before Soris threw himself into her back and knocked her to the floor. The fireball she had activated flew over their heads, smashing in an explosion of embers against the doorpost. This was swiftly followed by the sound of clanking feet, and a tall human came running from the room at the end of the hall. He was large, and strong, and he crashed into her with enough force to knock her to the ground. He raised his sword and bought it down. She blocked late, the blow meant to break her head open instead tearing a long cut down the side of her face. She screeched, swinging upwards, her sword somehow finding the gap between gorget and helmet. The body fell across her and she screamed until Soris pulled her free and slapped her out of her hysterics. _

Duncan wondered at the trials Jaiden had undergone in the arl's palace. She had not been violated, he knew that much, but she had had to fight her way through a lot of men stronger and more experienced than her in her desperate search for the others, and the fear must have been the only thing keeping her going until the end. Speaking privately with her cousin once she had gone to bid goodbye to Shianni, Duncan had discovered that Jaiden had spent most of the battles emitting noises a banshee would envy. She had been trained to fight, but not how to deal with taking a life, and he could only hope that the righteousness of what she had done cancelled out the horror she felt.

_They burst in. Her eyes were instantly drawn to Shianni, lying prone on the floor. She was bruised and bloody, her clothes no more than tattered rags hanging off her. Vaughn's men were still fully clothed and armed, and the arl's son stood, slowly tugging up his breeches without any visible concern at the interruption. He leered at her as he spoke, calmly attempting to negotiate, his voice drowned out by the roar in her ears. They were too late. _She_ was too late. Soris was speaking to her, wondering at the money Vaughn had offered them. His desperation to escape the alienage had been stronger than she had guessed at. She gave him a pithy answer, and Vaughn charged. More blood, more screaming, more of the foul smell that humans emit when they die. She rushed to help her cousin. There was accusation in Shianni's eyes. Why couldn't she had been faster? Why didn't she fight more? Why? She turned on Vaughn's corpse as Soris let the other elves out of the back room and lifted Shianni into his arms. The corpse opened its eyes, looking at her and laughing, hands reaching up to encircle her neck. The other men were rising, pulling at her clothes, as Soris and the others fled, and she struggled but the dead men held on tight and there was pain and horror and blood everywhere so much blood Maker help me Maker – _

"-HELP ME!"

Jaiden was woken by her own terrified shout, still feeling the grips of the arl and his friends upon her. She sat up, breathing too fast, and felt nausea rise in her throat. Her vision went fuzzy and then a gentle hand was on her back, pushing her head between her knees, telling her in a soothing voice to relax and breathe more steadily. After a few moments, her eyes began to clear, and the tension seeped from her shoulders, although she was still shaking. She slowly straightened up and shifted her sitting position until she could look around. Duncan sat by her, a hand still on her back, his deep brown eyes looking at her without judgement. She sat like that for a few seconds, recollecting where they were, and sighed, rubbing her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Duncan," she started, but the Warden-Commander held up his hand to silence her.

"You would not be the first recruit to suffer from bad dreams," he said. "We try to take the best we can, but most have some dark area of their past that they are haunted by. I have my own such memories, although I am in far better control of them now. As you will be." Jaiden was sceptical. The fighting, the pain in Shianni's eyes, and the violent touches of the men, had all felt so real, her imagination playing on her memories to make it worse than it ever could have been. It was her fear of what would have happened if Soris had never arrived that wove its way into her sleeping thoughts.

That and the killing. Maker help her, she had enjoyed it at the time. Even as Shianni lay on the floor, she had felt Vaughn's blood spray hot against her face, and she had _grinned_. It was savage and disgusting…and she wanted more. She had spent the first few hours she had ever spent outside Denerim on the first steps of a road towards a full-scale battle, and been praying for bandits to attack them, just so that she could impose Vaughn's face on them and watch him die again…and again…and again.

_I'm no better than he was._

The thought made her feel sick. Duncan watched her thoughtfully for a few moments, examining the expressions that flittered across her face. "Do not think yourself as bad as the man you slew," he said, firmly. "He delighted in prolonging pain, and thought your race lower than animals. If he had survived to become the arl of Denerim, a great many people would have suffered. He was but one stepping stone on your path to making Thedas a better place to live." Jaiden shook his head.

"For what he did to my cousin, I would gladly have tortured him," she said. Her eyes did not meet his and her voice lacked conviction.

"No, you would have not done it gladly," Duncan countered. "You would have done it because you felt it was the right response, under the circumstances, but you would have gained no pleasure from it. Only when you beat him, and quickly finished him, did you feel satisfaction."

"I went back to his body," Jaiden said. She looked up at him Duncan realised that she was praying for him to argue her every point, to prove to her that she was not the monster Vaughn had been. "I…wanted to keep chopping. I was so full of rage, I was ready to hack his body to unrecognisable pieces if we hadn't had to get the others out quickly." She fingered the long gash that Vaughn's bodyguard had cut in her face. Valendrian had given her an ointment to counteract infection, but it was going to leave a pretty visible scar, and Duncan caught her wrist and lowered it to her side, shaking his head at her.

"But you did not give into the temptation," he said firmly. "You put what mattered first over your own desire, despite its strength, and then you went one further and sacrificed yourself for the sake of every other elf in your alienage. If I had not been there, you would have died, slowly and painfully. These are good things to have in a Grey Warden. Loyalty, duty, bravery. Trust me," he caught her chin and forced her to meet his eyes; "you are a good person. You know this. You were thrust into a situation you could not escape without bloodshed, and you did what had to be done to save those you cared about. You could have run after Soris freed you, but you stuck with him all the way through the estate. You could have taken the money and left your cousin and bridesmaids to their fate, but you didn't." Jaiden's fearful expression was softening, a little, as he spoke. "You may have had bloody thoughts, but you chose not to act on them. You are no monster."

Jaiden was silent. She reached out, catching Duncan's hand and squeezing it lightly in thanks, before curling back into her bedroll and falling asleep again – this time, peacefully. The Warden looked down at his charge, some of his trepidation dissolving. She would not be a hardened warrior by the morning, but his words seemed to have sunk in, and he settled into his own blankets. He would have to train her a great deal along the road to Ostagar, it would seem, but not nearly so much as he had feared.

**O**

It took around two weeks to reach Ostagar. Along the way, Jaiden had turned out to have a knack for stealthy fighting. When they had left Denerim, she carried a small pouch at her side, and it had been a couple of days before Duncan discovered its purpose. When the bandits attacked them Jaiden had blended into the background so successfully that Duncan had lost sight of her. She then reappeared, right in front of the leader, and flung a powder in his eyes. The man screamed, tearing at his face, and Jaiden cut a neat line along his neck before twisting to meet her next opponent. She also had a great deal of skill in lock-picking, although she was terrible at detecting traps and had tripped on a number of wires laid along the road. Duncan strongly suspected that her skills were not innate talent, but had been honed through years of evading trouble from the humans while trying to find enough to eat. She was proving a worthwhile choice.

Jaiden was still torn by the consequences of her actions in Denerim. It was highly possible that the arl would simply lash out at the alienage. True, she was proving a better fighter than she ever thought she could be. Precise moves meant shorter combat, and Duncan was a brilliant distraction while she snuck around and took out whoever was running the raid. It was certainly easier than the mindless rage that threatened to cloud her mind every time she thought of Vaughn's sneering face. She had been no saint in her former life; what had to be done to survive had to be done, but she had never killed before that day.

Knowingly, anyway.

As they reached their destination, Jaiden's mouth dropped open. Ostagar was vast, far bigger than her mind could comprehend. White towers, battered by years of standing against wind, rain, and heavy siege machines, stretched into the sky, as though defying the Maker Himself. The ground around was still rough – Ostagar was built on the edge of the Wilds, after all – but the men moving around were heavily armoured, in magnificent suits of plate that put even the Templars to shame. Not that Jaiden had much to go on, as far as the Templars went. They usually stayed out of the alienage.

While she was still looking about gawping, a blonde-haired man strode up to them, clad in the most spectacular suit of armour Jaiden had ever seen. It was gold, with what appeared to be a wolf inscribed on the breast plate, and probably weighed more than she did. His knee guards were in the shape of _stars_, for the Maker's sake. Duncan started, offering a hasty bow.

"King Cailan? I was not expecting a-" Jaiden froze. This was the _king_. He looked so young! Surely not more than a couple of years older than her. He was handsome for a shem, that was certain, but Jaiden was having trouble trying not to be distracted by the sunlight shining off his armour and blinding her. Besides, this was the man who was currently letting the city elves suffer in his alienage. She pulled herself upright, determined not to bow, scowling.

"A royal welcome?" Cailan laughed. "I was beginning to think you would miss all the fun." There was a laugh in his voice that sat at odds with his military bearing, and Jaiden blinked at him.

"Not if I could help it, your majesty." Duncan, too, seemed amused. The two men obviously knew each other well enough to relax a little. Duncan had been kind to her, but also stoic and firm, drilling her relentlessly every day on how to maintain her armour and weapons, fixing arrows, the skills of scouting, and some sparring. He also seemed preoccupied a lot of the time, and it had been a gradual realisation that told Jaiden what a daunting task the man had ahead of him.

"Then I will have the mighty Duncan at my side in battle after all. Glorious." The king looked upwards, smiling as though he could already see the battlefield strewn with fallen darkspawn. He then looked directly at her, which Jaiden was not expecting. "I received your missive about the new recruit. I take it this is she?"

"Allow me to introduce you two, Your Majesty," Duncan began, but Cailan waved a hand dismissively.

"No need to be so formal, Duncan. We'll be shedding blood together after all." He was standing directly in front of her, smiling in a welcoming fashion, apparently not the least concerned that she was an elf. "Ho, there, friend. Might I know your name?"

"I-I am Jaiden, Your Highness," the elf said, struggling to control her stutter. The King of Ferelden was speaking to her like an _equal_. She couldn't afford to look cowed, but all the same – she should be dying by inches in the dungeons of Fort Drakon right now. This was surreal. The king said a few more words of welcome, and then, to her surprise, asked her a more personal question.

"Tell me, how are the alienages? My guards all but forbid me from going there." Jaiden knew the right response at this point was a pithy comment about how life was hard and the elves could use more help. Instead, what came out of her mouth was, "I murdered an arl's son for raping my friend." She knew from Duncan's groan and the startled reactions of the guards that she had made a massive faux pas, but it was almost worth it for Cailan's sagging jaw. "You – what?"

"Your Majesty, I would not have put it so bluntly," Duncan said, shooting Jaiden a warning glance. "There are events in Denerim that you should be aware of, however."

"Apparently so," Cailan muttered. He was giving Jaiden a strange look, and it took the elf a few moments to recognise it as respect. _What? _He waved a hand. "I need to return to my tent. Loghain awaits to bore me with his strategies." Duncan began speaking, mentioning something about a Redcliff lord, while Jaiden spaced out. She had got the shocked reaction she had been going for, but what on earth had qualified her for that second expression? As she mused, her ears caught the word 'Blight' and she tried to pay attention. Her feet hurt and her shoulders ached, and all she wanted right now was a hot meal and a doze before they went about doing whatever was next. There was so much going on, without being thrown into confusion by royalty as well.

"I'd hoped for a war like in the tales! A king riding with the fabled Grey Wardens against a tainted god – but I suppose this will have to do." From military, to friendly, to boyish dreams of heroism. The King of Ferelden seemed far too immature to be leading such an important battle – but there was a confidence and enthusiasm in his words that Jaiden couldn't fault. He appeared to regard the coming darkspawn horde as an inconvenience, to be swatted out of the way until the archdemon showed up for him to have his moment of glory. Jaiden's mother had taught her the importance of keeping spirits up in the face of discord. Every elf in the alienages knew how to do that. So perhaps his cheerful morale was not so bad.

Cailan took his leave and Jaiden looked after him, still frowning in thought. Duncan tapped her shoulder to get her attention again. "What the king said is true. They've won several battles against the darkspawn here." His body language was still strong and unshakeable, but Jaiden saw some trepidation in his eyes. She wasn't sure if she felt better about the fact that her commander was more cautious about the upcoming battle than the king – or worse.

They began walking towards the main area of Ostagar, Duncan talking about the successful battles so far and informing her of a ritual that needed to be performed. Somehow, Jaiden didn't think that the Grey Wardens went in for pointless ceremony. Duncan was not telling her everything, and before she could attempt to get more answers out of him he was gone, walking across the bridge towards the Warden encampment.

Jaiden leant on the stone and stared down. Oh _Maker,_ it was a long way down…she'd never been higher than partway up the vhenadahl tree in the alienage before, and this was many, many times higher than that. Her stomach flipped and she lurched away before she threw up on some unsuspecting soldier's head.

Quickly, she scuttled across the bridge, still tensing automatically every time she walked past a soldier, having to cover her surprised response as she was greeted with friendly cries of 'Hail!' and 'Welcome to the Wardens!'. A man standing guard at the main encampment called to her, asking if she wanted to know her way around. She asked tentatively after the Warden she was supposed to be seeking out, a human called Alistair. He pointed in the direction of a ruined temple to the north of the encampment, and gave her a salute as she walked away. It was surreal.

She knew she should be going straight to Alistair, but curiosity kicked in and she started to wander around, listening in on the commanders and the priests, generally trying to gather as much useful information as she could. Overhearing a sergeant showing the corpse of a genlock to his unit, she crept to the edge of the group, caught off guard again as nobody seemed to mind her presence. It was borderline unnerving, and after a few minutes she attempted to slink away, only to walk straight into another lord, nearly falling over. She apologised and turned to run off, but he stopped her.

"You're Duncan's new Grey Warden, I assume," the man said, looking her up and down. He was wearing a far dingier suit of plate than the king had been wearing, but it was obvious from the reactions of those around her that he was powerful. She heard the sergeant gasp behind her.

"Teryn Loghain!" The rest f the group bowed, and Jaiden quickly followed suit, remembering the king's passing reference to his strategist.

"I'm not a Grey Warden yet," she muttered. There was something about the way Loghain was examining her that made her feel really uncomfortable. It wasn't lecherous – she was used to those sorts of stares – but she couldn't place it. Loghain sniffed, brushing a piece of dirt from his shoulder pauldrons.

"You impressed His Majesty nonetheless. He could not be more excited over your meeting." Jaiden tried to conceal a frown. _But I told him I was a murderer…_she chose not to share this with the Teryn. "I don't suppose you'll be riding into the thick of battle with your fellows, will you?"

Jaiden chewed her lip, nibbling at a piece of loose skin. "I don't know," she said, nervously. "I mean, I'm new to all this…" Loghain put a hand on her shoulder.

"Every soldier starts somewhere," he said. His face was as forbidding as ever, yet Jaiden felt herself relax a little; he was evidentially accustomed to calming panicked boys and girls before their first battles, choosing just the right tone to encourage them. His next words surprised her. "You're pretty for a Grey Warden," he observed. Once again, there was no lechery or admiration in his tone; it was a simple statement of fact. "Don't let anybody tell you that you don't belong. One of the first Wardens Maric bought to Ferelden was a woman; finest warrior I've ever seen."

"T-Thank you, ser," Jaiden said hesitantly, meaning the words for perhaps the first time in her life. Loghain removed his hand from her shoulder.

"I must get back to my tent. Pray our king proves amenable to wisdom."

"And if he doesn't?" Jaiden ventured, cautiously. From what she had heard in her wanderings, the teryn and the king had clashed a lot lately, but they were also in-laws, and she didn't particularly want this man as an enemy. He didn't look the type to let an insult lie. To her relief, he gave her a shrewd look, but there was no malice or anger in his eyes.

"Then simply, pray." He turned away and Jaiden could hear the soldiers gossiping behind her about the teryn in awed voices. She still felt a little dizzy and it was with a whirl of confusion, as well as a sense of gratification that she could not damp down, that she went to find Alistair.

**O**

Alistair had a thumping headache, and was busy chewing some willow bark in an attempt to alleviate the pain. It had been a horrible day so far, crawling out of his tent in the pouring rain to attend to latrine duty, coming back to discover that a roaming mabari had filched his breakfast, and having to run around the camp conversing with the mages – none of whom made any sort of effort to make his job easier – to help get the Joining ritual ready. He had just sat down with a spot of lunch when the Reverend Mother had collared him and sent him with a message to one of the senior enchanters. He had realised a second too late that he had been purposefully chosen because his presence would be taken as an insult, and he had just about endured the mage's anger through flippancy, resisting the urge to drain the man's magic temporarily. _Because that'll improve the reputation of the Templars sooooo much_, he groused to himself.

As he and the mage traded barbs, he was aware of an armoured woman walking close to them, stopping when she realised that they were arguing, and withdrawing to a respectful distance. As the mage stormed off huffing angrily, Alistair pulled the bark out of his mouth and tried to summon a smile. He didn't realise until he turned that she was an elf, and he struggled to remember if there was any formal greeting he could offer, but the dull throbbing in his temples clouded his thinking and in the end he attempted to open with a joke.

"You know…one good thing about the Blight is that it brings us all together." The woman stared at him quizzically, and he was just wondering if the comment had flown over her head when she smiled.

"I know exactly what you mean," she replied, as the smile became a smirk. She then winced, her skin pulled tight across the scar tissue running down the left side of her face. It was a nasty wound, and looked fairly recent, but Alistair didn't think it was any of his business to ask how she got it. For all he knew, she picked it up on the way to Ostagar. What mattered to Alistair was that the elf had a wonderfully cheeky expression, and he breathed a sigh of relief. At least the day wasn't going to get worse. Unless….

"You're not a mage, are you?" the elf lifted an eyebrow at his question, crossing her arms and looking down at her suit of light leather armour. Alistair rubbed his eyes, wondering what the day had against him that demanded he kept rubbing people up the wrong way.

Something sparked in his memory and he examined the woman – although she could barely be called a woman, he thought. Even in the armour she looked barely out of her teens. "I think I know you. Are you Duncan's newest recruit? From Denerim?" She nodded, looking a little surprised. She had a rather expressive face and Alistair found he liked that. Being surrounded by stoic warriors all day could become a bit wearing if you had a habit of cracking jokes to relieve tension. "I'm Alistair, the new Grey Warden. I'll be accompanying you as you prepare for your Joining."

"I'm Jaiden. Pleased to meet you," she said, smiling. Scar aside, she was very pretty, Alistair thought. Her dark red hair was scraped back into a pony tail, with various errant strands coming loose that he doubted she would ever be able to tame. Her eyes were a very light shade or green, almost translucent, with a dark ring around the iris. She had a scattering of freckles against skin that was stubbornly pale in the sun's watery light. Despite this, Alistair's eyes kept being drawn to that scar. It was obviously a slash mark, nicking the very end of her eyebrow and crossing her cheek to the side of her chin, broadening at the jawline, and it was plain that whatever had caused it had narrowly avoided blinding her.

Alistair was not a fool. He knew elves lived hard lives in the alienages, and there were frequent fights with people who decided it would be fun to go in and kick them around a bit. Nonetheless, he could not help that feel that the scar had something to do with why the girl was here now.

He came back to the present to realise that Jaiden was staring at him, no longer smiling. He had been openly gawping and felt a rush of shame. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Don't worry about it," Jaiden said gently. "I know it looks messy right now – I'm hoping it'll heal without too much trouble. I can't seem to stop poking it, though. Duncan had to keep swatting my hand away while it was still open." Alistair did his best not to wince, and attempted to change the subject.

"You know, it occurs to me that there have never been many women in the Grey Wardens. I wonder why that is?" His tone of voice invited her to comment, but she tipped her head to one side and batted another question back at him.

"You think there should be more women in the Wardens?"

"Would that be so terrible?" It wasn't until the words were out of his mouth that he realised how bad his voice sounded, and Jaiden's lips tightened a little. "Not that I'm some…drooling lecher…" Jaiden narrowed her eyes, but despite her uninviting facial expression she didn't seem to be that annoyed. "…please stop looking at me like that." Jaiden relaxed, and Alistair breathed a sigh of relief. He did not want to be wandering around the Korcari Wilds with an angry elf in tow. Nonetheless, he decided that today was a day that opening his mouth was interpreted by his foot as an invitation, and the best course of action was to be quiet. "Anyway, we should probably get back to Duncan."

As they began walking down to the main fire, a man ran over from the quarter-master's area and before Alistair could react, he had grabbed Jaiden by the ear and pinched, hard. "What have you done with my armour, elf?" he snapped. He glanced at the studded leather she wore and his angry expression reformed into puzzlement. "And why are you dressed so preposterously?" Alistair was about to step in to intervene, but Jaiden's fist got there first, landing squarely in the man's nose. There was an audible crunching noise and he let go of her, cursing and clutching at his face in an attempt to stem the flow of blood.

"I'm not a _servant_," Jaiden spat. "I'm here to become a Grey Warden, you stupid shem!"

"Ugh…I'm…sorry…" the quartermaster said thickly, padding at his face. "You look like a girl who's supposed to be-"

"Maybe you should treat our kind with better respect," Jaiden interrupted, eyes narrowed.

"I will," the quartermaster assured her, holding the hand not clamped over his nose up defensively. "Please don't tell your commander I grabbed you…"

"As if you were worthy of his time," Jaiden sneered, turning on her heel and walking away. Alistair had been frozen, unable to contribute anything to the confrontation, and as he caught up to her he feared that she would become surly now. To his amazement, a grin was spreading over her face as she massaged the knuckles of the hand that had struck. "Maker forgive me," she laughed, "but that felt _good_."

Alistair stared down at her and she pulled an apologetic expression.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I've just had to endure humans grabbing me like that ever since I could walk and it suddenly occurred to me that I don't have to put up with that it more. I didn't cross a line or anything, did I?" Alistair summoned up an encouraging grin.

"To be fair, I think he deserved that," he said, truthfully. The man hadn't even bothered to check if it was the right elf; he'd just lashed out. Jaiden shook her hand out.

"Ow. I think I need to be more careful about giving bare-handed punches to men built like brick outhouses." Duncan hailed them as they approached and Jaiden leaned in to Alistair. "Please don't tell him about that, though."

"My lips are sealed," Alistair smiled. His first impressions of his new companion were of a woman of contrasts, but at least she promised to be interesting.

**O**


	2. The Joining

Ser Jory had seen a fair amount in his life. He was no sheltered lord's son, after all, but had served as page and squire, earning his knighthood through sweat, blood and service. He knew he looked a little brutish to some and cowardly to others, but his cautious nature coupled with his strength had served him well over the years. A few missions had taught him the value of taking a task slowly, assessing the angles and probing for weaknesses, instead of charging in with his sword raised high. He had seen too many comrades fall for such sloppy entrances. He knew his personal fighting skill was not the best at the Grand Melee he had won in Highever, but his softly-softly approach had allowed him to win by taking advantage of gaps a more harried fighter might not have seen. He knew it was for his caution that Duncan had taken an interest; Wardens, after all, did not simply charge into hordes of darkspawn, but had to take tactical approaches to eliminate the creatures quickly.

With this in mind, he was amazed that he was not only venturing into ferociously unfriendly territory, populated with wolves, darkspawn and Chasind tribes who were apparently prone to cannibalism, but he was doing it as the sky turned dark, and he was following an elf almost entirely untrained in tactics. Jaiden had proven herself skilful with the weapons she carried, and had put an arrow through the eyes of a hurlock even before anybody else spotted it running at them. She had an ability to blend into the landscape in a manner that unnerved him, and could move startlingly quickly to deliver fatal stabs to the back of her opponent's neck.

Those were the good points. She had swiftly obtained the three vials of blood, true, as well as picking a handful of wilds flowers that were apparently needed for medicine back at the fortress. But she was now chasing signs apparently laid down by the Chasind tribes, in patches of scrub and fallen trees that didn't seem to have any difference to the surrounding landscape. After some wandering, watching the elf roam ahead and searching the ground for further signs, Jory tapped Alistair on the shoulder.

"If I may," he murmured. "Why is she leading us?"

"Do you have an objection?" The junior Warden looked at him steadily. He was younger than Ser Jory, and there was something very familiar about him that the knight could not place. Still, he had the authority. Ser Jory bowed his head respectfully.

"She is…untrained. She fights, and she tracks, but she does not utilise us as well as she should. And we are wasting time chasing after a Chasind stash; it will be night soon, and I would hazard a guess that none of us want to be out here for any longer than necessary. Why are you not leading?"

"This is a test, of sorts." Alistair's voice was calm, but Jory spotted some nervousness in his eyes. For whatever reason, the Warden did not like the idea of leading very much. This did not assuage Jory's fears. "We are looking for leadership skills, confidence, as well as smarts. And both of you fell behind her the moment we stepped outside Ostagar, did you not?"

"Yes, but…" Jory couldn't explain why he had done it. The elven woman was only a little taller than the greatsword hefted across his back, but when she realised that all eyes had fallen on her to lead she had simply headed out into the marsh without a word. She had shown compassion, certainly; she had personally bandaged up a badly wounded soldier they had found outside Ostagar, even offering to help support him back. But she seemed too easily distracted and didn't appear to even take the darkspawn that seriously. Her first fight with them involved her ordering them all to stay back while she crept in perfect silence up a small hill to where a group of three genlocks and two hurlocks were waiting. With one swift sweep of her weapons she had beheaded two and injured one, and with her cover blown the men had charged up just in time to stop her from gaining multiple perforations. Alistair had chastised her for walking straight into the middle of the group and she had just smiled at him, wiping her sword and dagger on the grass before going to fill the vials.

He sighed, unable to give the Warden an answer, and followed on. Together the group fought their way through two more large groups of darkspawn, as well as a few token genlock rogues, and Jaiden turned up the stash, which turned out to be surprisingly good. She took a thane helmet and jammed it on her head, and even Jory could not suppress a smile at how ridiculous the oversized headpiece looked alongside her light leather armour. In the end she gave it to Alistair, who seemed just as gleeful about the barbarian armour as she had.

Night was well and truly settling in when the crumbling towers of the old outpost appeared over the next rise, along with the final few darkspawn. These were dispatched with ease, and before the men had a chance to wipe down their weapons Jaiden had slipped through the vaulted archway, heading for the splintered remains of a chest on the ground floor.

The temperature was dropping rapidly and Jory felt even more nervous than before. Staying in the tower overnight was the sensible thing, but the battle was due and they needed to get back as soon as possible. Even with the map, he had not the faintest idea how they were going to get back to Ostagar on time – especially when Jaiden twisted from her crouch, frowning, and announced that the treaties had gone. The best course of action, as far as Jory was concerned, was to head back to Ostagar with the vials and leave the treaties for after the battle.

Before he could voice his fears, however, there was a low chuckle as the most startling woman Jory had ever seen descended the steps, her skin white and her eyes a gleaming yellow in the dark. She was wearing only ragged strips of clothing - just looking at her felt like a betrayal to his wife, and Jory lowered his eyes as she walked past, addressing them. She spoke to the group, but swiftly dismissed them after mocking Alistair and Daveth, speaking directly to Jaiden.

"You. Women do not frighten like little boys. Tell me your name and I will tell you mine. Let us be civil." Jory wasn't sure what response he had expected from the unpredictable city elf, but it wasn't for her to bow and speak politely.

"I am Jaiden. Pleased to meet you." The words sounded like a habit, manners drilled in by years of being corrected by her elders, but their tone did not seem to irritate the woman. She seemed more amused.

"Now that is a proper civil greeting, even here in the Wilds!" She laughed. "You may call me Morrigan. Shall I guess your purpose? You sought something in that tower. Something that is here no longer." Jaiden opened her mouth to speak, but Alistair got there first.

"Here no longer?" His voice was tight with anger and Jory resisted the urge to mash his palm into his face as the group 'leader' struggled to articulate. "You stole them, didn't you? You're some kind of…sneaky…witch-thief!" Jaiden shot Alistair a poisonous look – much like a captain would to one of his men who had spoken out of turn. It would appear that despite herself, she had accepted the mantle of leader without much difficulty or embarrassment. Although it probably helped that none of them had challenged her for it yet. Morrigan pulled a face.

"How very eloquent. How does one steal from dead men?"

"Quite easily, it seems." Alistair's tone was still harsh, but he had regained himself and drew himself up straight. "Those documents were Grey Warden property and I suggest you return them." Morrigan shook her head and an angry flush started to spread over Alistair's face, but Jaiden made a downwards motion with her head and he settled slightly, reminding Jory of a dog that had stopped growling but still had its hackles raised.

_She's known him for only a few hours and he's already eating out of her hand,_ Jory thought, with no small wonder. He had never been one to treat elves badly for their lowly status, but he had seen the common attitude of his race towards them and he had heard of a scuffle earlier that day between Jaiden and somebody who had not checked who she was before bringing her to task. That she commanded such respect either said volumes for the power of a pretty face (marred as it was), or that the boy – for he was a boy, Jory realised, as much as Jaiden was a girl, both so young for this – saw genuine ability in the elf that he had decided to favour above either of the men.

Jory wasn't sure whether to be insulted on his behalf or impressed by Jaiden.

"…t'was not I who removed them." Jaiden's head tipped to the side as she studied the woman on the bluff.

"So who did?"

"T'was my mother, in fact." Jaiden's eyebrows raised a little, but other than that she gave no inkling of what she was thinking. It seemed that she had decided civility was worth more than aggressiveness in this situation, and Jory respected her a bit more for it. Being able to read opponents worked well outside battle too, and using the course of action that did not end in violence was very welcome to the knight right now. He rubbed his fingers together and blew on them, stamping his feet. It was getting colder, and if they ended up battling the woman his limbs would be stiff with fatigue.

"Can you take us to her?"

"Now there is a sensible request." Morrigan smiled. "I like you." It seemed to be said with genuine feeling, but Alistair and Daveth plainly felt otherwise.

"I'd be careful," was Alistair's contribution. "First it's 'I like you!' But then zap! Frog time." The scrawny pickpocket who had been mocking Jory for overbearing caution earlier seemed to be mere inches from soiling himself in fear.

"She'll put us all in the pot she will, just you watch."

"If the pot's any warmer than this forest, it'll be a nice change," Jory commented dryly. Jaiden shot him a grateful glance and he realised it was the first contribution to the conversation he had made. The other two were twitchy, but he was just tired, and if they were heading back to the woman's home there was chance of a fire and the time to sit down before having to brave the Wilds at night. The witch turned, heading down a barely visible path between the trees.

"Follow me then, if it pleases you."

**O**

Daveth was beginning to collect himself as the pale woman glided ahead of them, making no noise on the uneven ground. The treaties had been collected and after a rather cryptic series of remarks that passed between Morrigan's mother and Jaiden, Morrigan had been instructed to lead them on the shortest route back to Ostagar.

He was annoyed at himself. The woman waiting at the hut had looked and acted a bit loopy, but some primal fear had gnawed at his conscious, telling him that she was far more dangerous than she let on. He had started babbling about toads, and it was much to his irritation that Ser Jory had chastised him. The witch had even complimented Ser Jory for being a 'smart lad'! He wouldn't last long on the streets of Denerim, Daveth knew that much. The knight had been rubbing him up the wrong way since they met, passing up opportunities for quick attack in favour of anything that allowed him to swing that great sword about. Daveth smirked. The man was obviously compensating for something.

He'd been as curious about Jaiden as Jory had been, but unlike Jory he had actually spoken to her a few times as they explored, badgering her with questions. She was pretty enough, if one could ignore that scar, and between talking to a stuck-up knight, an utterly useless guide, and an elf, the choice was obvious. She'd spoken a little of life in the alienage, and listened as he told her about picking pockets on the streets of Denerim. They'd never run into each other, but Daveth could tell by more than her lack of reaction that Jaiden was accustomed to cutting a few purses herself. She had that look of studied indifference while she sized up a situation, coupled with wariness as she approached it – even if she then dived in head first.

She laughed easily, though, and seemed amused by his tales of running from the guard. As soon as he asked about how she had come to join the Wardens, however, she clammed up, muttering that she didn't want to talk about it.

"Duncan saved me, and that's all I'll say." Daveth shrugged.

"Same for me. I was going to be strung up. Caught one too many times."

"You weren't a very good pickpocket then, were you?" He shot her a look, but she was teasing him. Whatever shadows had passed over her eyes at his question were quickly chased away as she poked fun, before drawing her swords at the sound of a genlock grunt and charging into battle. There were worse things than a jokey façade to keep bad thoughts at bay, although Daveth knew that bottling them up wasn't the best, either. Not that he was going to attempt to counsel her. Somehow he didn't feel like coming across as patronising to somebody who could remove an ear before he got out the way.

"There." Morrigan was pointing to where the white walls of Ostagar were just visible in the darkness. "I assume even you imbeciles will be able to find your way back from here unaided. I will be off."

"Thank you-" Jaiden was cut off by Morrigan vanishing. From where she had been standing an indistinct black shape rose up, soaring above the trees and out of sight. Alistair glared after her.

"Swooping witch thieves…" he muttered. "All right. Let's get on with it."

Duncan was waiting by the fire, his arms crossed, looking as though he hadn't budged since sending them into the Wilds a few hours earlier. Daveth eyed him warily. He was grateful to the 'old bugger' for saving his life, but he was still unnerved by the speed with which Duncan had moved. It had been almost unnatural. Jaiden was handing over the vials. Duncan took them, but told her to keep hold of the treaties for the moment.

He then spoke to the rest of the group. "I won't lie. We Wardens pay a heavy price to become what we are." His brown eyes surveyed each of them, and Daveth felt a chill run down his spine. "Fate may decree you pay your price now, rather than later." Silence fell upon the group. Jory looked tense, Alistair concerned, and Jaiden was examining her feet, chewing on her lip. A few moments passed before Daveth realised that everyone was watching the elf. Eventually, she lifted her head, and met Duncan's gaze.

"I'm ready."

Duncan glanced at the other two recruits, who nodded in assent. "Very well. Alistair, take them to the old temple."

**O**

Jaiden stood with her arms held loosely by her sides, inhaling and exhaling in even measures. It was a technique Duncan had taught her to calm her nerves before combat, but this time it failed to lessen the hammering in her chest. Daveth and Jory were bickering in the background and Alistair was doing his best to reassure the nervy knight. Daveth had regained a lot of his bravado since leaving the Wilds, and looked to her to join in his ribbing. She clapped her hands over her ears.

"Would you both just shut up!"

They both looked surprised at her outburst. Alistair touched her shoulder in a brief gesture of comfort, and she saw understanding in his eyes. Jaiden gave him a tight smile of comfort, and it was with a mixture of relief and paralysing fear that she heard Duncan approach.

"And so we come to the Joining." The Warden-Commander walked over to the ruined alter, where a massive silver chalice stood, half-full of a dark red liquid that Jaiden preferred not to guess at the nature of. "The Grey Wardens were founded during the first Blight. They drank of the darkspawn blood, and mastered their taint."

Ser Jory looked a little green, and Jaiden felt her throat close at the thought of consuming anything that had come from those monsters.

"Those who survive the Joining become immune to the taint. We can sense it in the darkspawn, and use it to slay the archdemon."

Jaiden barely heard Alistair. Her survival instinct was telling her to run away and hide, but her feet were frozen in place. Her own voice, sounding very distant, forced its way past her lips.

"Let's get on with it then."

The group bowed their heads as Alistair spoke a few words, and then Daveth was called forward. Jaiden might have found the cutpurse a little annoying with his persistent questioning, but she could not fault his bravery in this. He had announced that he would do what he must to end the Blight, and there was only the briefest hesitation before her lifted the chalice to his lips, drinking deeply.

Only a second passed before he bent double, howling in pain and fear. His eyes had gone completely white, and he seemed to be seeing something that none of them could. He flailed, clutching for support, but Duncan and Alistair stepped away from his grasp, and he fell to the floor. Choking noises emanated from his throat and he scrabbled at it. A mighty shudder passed through him and then his body went slack, collapsing limp against the flagstone. His neck gave a horribly loose roll on his shoulders and then he was gone.

"I am sorry, Daveth." Duncan's voice was genuinely sorrowful, but Jaiden could tell this was a long way from the first time he had watched a recruit stretch out on the ground. She forced herself to keep still, locking her limbs and balling her fists. If she gave even slightly she would run-

Duncan had summoned Jory forwards. Jaiden was about to offer up a prayer for the knight's fortune, and instead fell ill with shock as Jory drew his sword. The fear in his eyes was actually beyond anything she had seen in the Wilds – the last time she had seen anybody that terrified was –

_NO. Don't think about that. _

"I have a wife – a child – had I known…" Duncan held out the chalice and Jory swatted at it with his sword, nearly knocking it out of the Warden's hands. Duncan sighed and set it aside, before drawing a curved dagger from his belt. _He's not going to – he can't – _

Surely Duncan wasn't actually going to try. Jory still wielded his greatsword while Duncan held a weapon barely longer than her forearm. He couldn't actually pose any real threat.

The men's weapons clashed together only twice, and then Duncan slipped through Jory's guard faster than Jaiden could see, and Jory released a terrible, blood-choked gurgle as the dagger ran him through. He fell against Duncan and for one moment of insanity it looked to Jaiden as though the Warden was offering Jory a comforting embrace.

"I am sorry, Jory."

There was nowhere to run. If she refused the ritual, Duncan would kill her. If she stayed, she might die. Caught between a rock and a hard place, still staring down at the blood pooling around Jory's body, she took the chalice with numb and shaking hands. The viscous liquid inside slopped around a little, leaving trails of thick red oozing down the side of the cup that made her feel even more nauseaous than before. She had barely raised the cup to her lips before she started to rebel against it. She took a deep breath, and then tipped the remaining contents into her mouth.

From the moment it touched her tongue every atom of her body fought against it. Her mouth tried to spit, her oesophagus closed, her stomach heaved wildly. It was the vilest thing she had ever encountered, and she shut her lips tight and forced herself to gulp, clapping a hand over her mouth as she fought the overwhelming urge to vomit. And then it was gone, and Jaiden could feel it sitting in her stomach like a squatting toad. Duncan and Alistair were watching her, expectant, waiting.

A whispering, indecipherable sound, like a thousand people whispering at once, filled her head, and she pressed her hands into her temples. An indescribable pain filled her, and she could feel herself falling, and shut her eyes, but opened them again as an almighty roar sounded in her ears. Standing above her was a dragon so huge her mind could scarcely comprehend it. It turned its head to her and roared, and Jaiden screamed as she stared past the massive teeth to the gullet beyond, feeling an irresistible pull towards it. She could smell the thing's breath – great waves of rank air assailed her as she was dragged closer, feet scrabbling against – something – begging for something, anything to save her –

- And then she opened her eyes, looking up into the faces of Duncan and Alistair. Alistair looked relieved, Duncan mildly pleased. "It is finished. Welcome to the Grey Wardens."

He held out a hand to her and helped her to her feet. Jaiden's knees felt very wobbly and Alistair caught her arm. She leaned gratefully against him, and he patted her awkwardly on the head. "I'm glad at least one of you made it through."

"How do you feel?" Duncan was examining her closely, and she stood away from Alistair, feeling her strength returning.

"It's over." Her shortness of breath made her terse, the memory of the monster still frightening her. "I'm fine."

"Did you have dreams?" Alistair asked. "I had terrible dreams after my Joining." _Glad to know it's not just me going insane then_, Jaiden thought, but she nodded.

"Such dreams come when you begin to sense the darkspawn," Duncan explained. Alistair tapped Jaiden on the shoulder.

"Before I forget…" he held out a vial on the end of a silver chain out to her. "We take some of the blood and keep it in a pendant. Something to remind us of those who didn't make it this far." Jaiden wasn't sure she liked the idea of wearing a container of darkspawn blood around her neck, but in the glass container it didn't look that bad. She thanked him, putting it on immediately. Duncan started talking about a strategy meeting she was supposed to attend, but she held up her hand and sat down on one of the benches. Jory and Daveth's bodies were being carried away, and Jaiden felt sorry for Jory's wife. Poor woman. She would never know how her husband had died – although perhaps that was for the best.

"Take your time." Duncan seemed sympathetic to her feelings. "Come whenever you are ready."

_If I ever am._ Jaiden couldn't imagine ever being responsible for the burden of the Grey Wardens, and it wasn't as though she'd had any sort of choice. She felt different. Her skin was incredibly hot and all of a sudden she was aware that she was starving. She hadn't managed to get that hot meal yet – the last time she had eaten was before dawn broke that morning, as she and Duncan struck camp and covered the final stretch of ground to Ostagar. _Maker, it has been a long day._

Alistair waved goodbye to her and she sat alone in the temple for a while, trying not to look at the blood that had spilled from Jory's ruptured abdomen. She liked Alistair; he had seemed cheerful and jokey, if sometimes prone to gallows humour. He'd been all business in the Wilds, however, even if Jaiden had wondered why in the world three human males had let an untrained elven woman lead them. Perhaps some small measure of crazy was required to become a Grey Warden. Nonetheless, Jaiden felt that if she stuck by him, she could muddle through the battle and then keep her head down until the next time the Wardens were needed.

A few minutes passed before she pushed herself back onto her feet, and wandered down the slope towards the long meeting table. She could hear the king and Loghain arguing long before she joined them. Everything seemed – sharper, somehow. Her ears flicked as she picked up sounds she couldn't have heard normally. Was this the effect of the Joining? Or was her fear simply exacerbating her senses?

The strategy meeting proved to be less strategy than argument. Duncan tried to put in a word of concern about the appearance of the archdemon, but for once the teryn and Cailan were in agreement; it was the Warden's problem, not theirs. Cailan congratulated her on her Joining while Loghain glowered, showing no sign of the man who had offered those words of comfort earlier on.

It was with some relief that Jaiden learnt that she wasn't to be in the battle. She might have picked up a lot in the last couple of weeks, but not nearly enough to avoid getting herself hacked to pieces by the horde. Alistair did not share her sentiments, however. He argued with Duncan, demanding that he get to fight, but the Warden-Commander did not back down. "Cailan said he wanted Wardens to light the beacon, and that is your task whether you will it or no."

"I get it," Alistair groaned. "Just so you know, if the king ever tells me to put on a dress and dance the Remigold, I'm out, darkspawn or no."

The mental image was so ridiculous in the midst of everything else that Jaiden couldn't suppress a giggle. "You never know, that might actually work." Alistair looked at her appreciatively.

"I imagine me shimmying down the darkspawn line would make them laugh so much that we get extra time to finish them off."

Maker, it felt _good_ to laugh, even with her stomach making audible growling noises at this point. Alistair smirked, while Duncan gave an exasperated groan.

"Alistair, make sure she gets something to eat before the battle." Alistair covered his smile, nodding. Duncan gestured towards the bridge, pointing out the Tower of Ishal. "Head through the gate and up to the tower entrance. From the top you'll overlook the entire valley. Alistair will know what signal to look for."

Jaiden nodded and Duncan gave her a perfunctory smile. "Then I must take my leave. Remember; you are both Grey Wardens. I expect you to be worthy of that title."

"Duncan." Alistair's amusement had slipped away, replaced by an air of solemnity. "May the Maker watch over you."

"May He watch over us all." With that, Duncan turned and walked into the darkness. Alistair turned and looked down at her.

"Right, let's get you fed then."

The best they were able to scrounge up was a scraping of stew the cook had in the bottom of his cauldron. The rest of the soldiers had long since eaten and the lukewarm gunge was completely unsatisfying, but at least it filled her up.

"Ready?" Alistair was waiting by the entrance to the tent, tightening the strap underneath the helmet she had found for him in the Wilds. She ran a finger along the inside of the bowl and licked it clean. "Such a lovely habit you have there."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "C'mon, let's go. I want to see the beginning of the battle before we go running up three flights of stairs." Together, they walked out of the tent and towards the bridge, hearing nothing but the rain slamming onto the metal-plated heads below them. Silence fell across Ostagar, as the army collectively held its breath.

**O**

**Chapter Three up soon!**


	3. After The Battle

**I skipped the actual battle at Ostagar because any Dragon Age player knows how that all went down. That said, I'll be revealing little details throughout as it ties in with the dialogue.**

**This chapter was beta-read by SpiritWarrior 22! You should all go and read his 'Trials and Tribulations' (plug plug plug), featuring Kailee Cousland.**

**Jaiden is mine. All stuff you recognise is Bioware's.**

**-Genjutsu-Dragon-**

**O**

Jaiden awoke with a start, hand scrabbling at her shoulder, gritting her teeth against the waves of pain that were sure to follow. To her surprise, there was nothing. Her shoulder was bandaged, and gentle probing revealed little damage left by the arrows she remembered thudding into her, knocking her to the ground and mercifully straight into unconsciousness. Her thoughts were muddled, and every muscle in her body hurt. She remembered wading through the droves of darkspawn on the way up the tower, having to fight for every inch, as well as deal with the low-key wailing in her ears. It had taken her a while to work out that the noise was her new darkspawn sense. It had driven her nearly to distraction during that night, and even now she could hear it, but very faintly, much easier to ignore. She fell back on the bed and looked up at the ceiling of a hut.

_How did I get here?_

Memories rushed through her. She could still remember the mind-numbing fear at just how many darkspawn were waiting for them in the tower, and her clumsy melee fighting in comparison to Alistair's smooth use of his sword and shield. She might be good at stealth but she had kept ending up in large groups of darkspawn and then panicking, hacking repeatedly and ducking whenever something sharp came her way.

"Ah, your eyes finally open. Mother shall be pleased."

Jaiden blinked as a slender figure came into focus at the end of the bed.

"I remember you…the girl from the Wilds."

"I am Morrigan, lest you have forgotten," the witch said coolly. "We are in my mother's hut in the Wilds, where I am bandaging your wounds. You are welcome, by the way." Her tone was pointed, and Jaiden quickly offered thanks. To her surprise, this seemed to throw Morrigan off slightly. "Mother did most of the work," she explained. "I am no healer."

"Nonetheless, you helped save my life." Everything was sore. "Ugh. I feel like somebody threw me in the laundry tub with an angry bear." She paused, thoughtfully. "And then added bees."

"I would suggest that you get used to it." A corner of Morrigan's mouth tugged upwards, as though she was suppressing the desire to laugh. "Your life will not be easy from now on."

"I'm still alive, that's what I'm grateful for." The pain was almost welcome. She could feel her heart beating, and savoured each indrawn breath. She hadn't the faintest idea of how she had survived – her last memory was turning to see darkspawn and feeling the arrows slam into her. A single thought had gone through her mind – _no_ – and Alistair had appeared above her, trying to fend off their attackers. She had lost consciousness then.

_Alistair. _What had happened to him? And how had she ended up here, anyway? What had happened to the army? The king? Duncan? Her attempt to phrase all of this as one long question turned into an indecipherable gargle as her throat dried up and her body started viciously reminding her that she had only had one meal in Maker knew how long and no liquid at all. Morrigan smirked, before going to fetch a water skin and handing it to the Warden. Jaiden drained it completely and then attempted to corral her thoughts.

"Do you remember Mother's rescue?" Morrigan gave her a cue and Jaiden shook her head.

"I remember being overwhelmed by darkspawn…" she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Alistair tried to protect me, I think, but I can't think of anything after that."

"Would Alistair be the suspicious dimwit that accompanied you through the Wilds?"

"He's not a dimwit." Jaiden nibbled at her lip, afraid to ask. "Did he…"

"Mother managed to save you and your friend." A rush of relief that surprised Jaiden sped through her at the realisation that the templar had survived. _Don't think I've ever been grateful for a human not dying before._ She was not one of those elves who actively hated the entire human race. She had enjoyed the company of those who bothered to get to know her often enough, but there was no denying that her usual reaction was to tense up in expectation of a kicking.

Talking to Daveth had been something of a relief; the cutpurse, while prone to asking too many questions, had been friendly from the start, treating her as an equal. They had recognised something in each other, a shared history, and had bonded over it.

_Daveth and Jory. The first of many to fall that night,_

Morrigan continued to speak.

"The man who was to respond to your signal quit the field. Those he abandoned were massacred." The witch glanced at the door. "Your friend…he is not taking it well."

Relief was instantly replaced with gut-deep horror.

_You're pretty for a Grey Warden. Don't let anybody tell you that you don't belong._ The words rang in her ears, sounding almost mocking now, as Loghain's face swam in her mind's eye. His grim expression of stoicism was replaced by a triumphant sneer and Jaiden unthinkingly clenched at the blankets, staring into space with an expression of mingled rage and grief.

"What happened to the Grey Wardens? And the king?" They had to have escaped. Surely…

"All dead. Your friend has veered between denial and grief since Mother told him." Morrigan gestured towards the door. "He is outside by the fire; he did attempt to help with your wounds when he recovered, although I am certain his bumbling may have made things worse. Mother got him out of the way so that I could continue." Morrigan sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing a poultice into a particularly nasty gash that ran down Jaiden's left arm. She worked quickly and the damage was soon covered by a neatly tied swathe of cloth. "Mother asked to see you when you awoke."

Morrigan's words barely registered with Jaiden. All those people, dead…or worse…Duncan was gone. The king was dead. The Grey Wardens eliminated, leaving her and Alistair as the last two Wardens in Ferelden. The bile rose in her throat and she clenched her teeth, determined not to surrender to the panic-driven nausea. How were they meant to combat the Blight now?

A few heaving breaths and she relaxed a little again. Alistair was with her, and he had been a Warden for several months longer than she had. He would know what to do. As her anxiety receded, new questions came pouring into her mind.

"How did your mother manage to save us, exactly?"

"She turned into a giant bird and plucked the two of you from atop the tower, one in each talon." Jaiden gawped at her. Morrigan gave an indifferent shrug. "If you do not believe that, I suggest you ask Mother yourself."

Jaiden was beginning to wonder if she'd simply drunk too much wine on her wedding day. This was too much to take in at once. Nonetheless, she pushed the blankets back and forced herself to stand. Morrigan handed her the battered leather vaguely recognisable as armour and she wriggled in to it, examining the damage as she did so. A scorch mark on one shoulder bought a memory back.

_They ran through the door, and Jaiden dived forward just in time to avoid the hurlock that had been bringing its sword down exactly where her neck had been moments before. There was a cluster of the creatures in this room, and Jaiden was having trouble keeping up with the flurry of blows. Her arms were aching and her voice rose in a cry for help as they began to wear her down. Alistair charged forwards but a bolt of fire sped past him, striking Jaiden on the shoulder and knocking her to the ground, scattering the surrounding darkspawn and stunning them long enough for her to scrabble into a more advantageous position._

_The fear had risen in her as they scrambled up the tower, and she had no idea how she had managed to wield her weapons for so long. Her body was punishing her for it now. She also vaguely remembered screaming at the mage who had saved her, anger mixing with her borderline hysteria. Terror was draining and while she had managed to stop herself from doing anything too stupid she was amazed that they had made it all the way to the beacon. _

She fastened the last buckle and Morrigan silently handed her a haversack with a few of her things in it. "I managed to retrieve a few items of use for you whilst you were unconscious." Jaiden nodded at her in gratitude, tying the bag loosely to her back and tightening her sword belt. Already she was thinking of how much she could get for what was in there, which mostly consisted of a few potions, of a couple of shiny rocks, and some assorted pieces of light armour. Bartering was a more comfortable thought than fighting, after all, and they were probably going to need money.

Thus set, she pushed the door open and walked out to where Alistair was waiting.

**O**

The sun's light was struggling through the thick, soupy air of the Wilds. The older witch had said little to Alistair since herding him outside, desperate as he was to just be nearby whilst Morrigan dealt with Jaiden's injuries.

He was brooding.

The Grey Wardens – and Duncan with them – were dead. Upon regaining consciousness he had panicked, first casting about for Jaiden and then firing questions at the dark-haired woman who was rubbing a cooling salve into a heavily blistered part of his arm. She had answered him tartly, not offering any sort of consolation for his loss, and he had swayed in his seat, sick with grief. At least she had not mocked him for his tears.

When he had managed to stem the first tide of misery, his attention had returned to Jaiden, who was looking far worse than he was. She was horribly pale, still heavily flecked in gore from the battle, the various rends and tears in her skin causing him to turn away. He had tried to help, but been swiftly ushered out of the hut, and was now tearing at his thumbnail. If Jaiden did not survive…she had looked so badly wounded he could not imagine her recovering. The thick puncture marks where the arrows had struck her remained stuck in his head.

The army couldn't be dead. This had to be a bad dream. _Come on, Alistair. You're probably in the infirmary. Get up._

His aching body and the rub of bandages under his armour was more than enough confirmation that he was awake.

Occasionally he spoke to Morrigan's mother, asking more questions, desperate to know if there was any way any of the Wardens could have survived. It was easy to see where the swamp witch had inherited her bluntness from; the elder woman had offered no comfort, speaking harsh truths with an easiness and detachment that made Alistair want to strike her. He had settled for dropping down by the edge of the marsh, glowering.

A clanking noise stirred him from his reverie and he rose to see Jaiden leaving the hut. She was pale, the red of her scar more intrusive than ever, and an expression of extreme weariness written across her face. Her eyes lit up when she saw him, however, and before he realised what he was doing he had strode across to her and picked her off the floor in an embrace that was pure relief.

"Thank the Maker you're okay…I was so sure that you were going to die…"

"Urk…Alistair…my ribs…" The elf's feet battered against his knees and he put her down hurriedly, apologising. "Good to know you have such faith in me." The words were said without bite, and he smiled awkwardly at her. At the very least, he wasn't alone.

"If it weren't for Morrigan's mother…"

"Do not talk about me as if I am not present, lad." The woman turned her yellow eyes on him and he felt a twinge of fear. The instincts that had been drummed into him during templar training were telling him to release a burst of mana drain and then execute the apostates, but survival came first and he kept his hands well away from the hilt of his sword. Jaiden nudged him.

"I-I'm sorry. But what do we call you? You never told us your name." The woman shrugged.

"The Chasind folk call me Flemeth. I suppose it will do."

The twinge became a full-blown lurch. This was the infamous Flemeth, the Woman of Many Years, the Witch of the Wilds, after whom numerous contingents of templars had been sent, never to be seen again. He was frightened in a way he hadn't been since a child, and unthinkingly he raised his hand towards his weapon. Jaiden caught his wrist and lowered it, her calm eyes holding his gaze until his head cleared. Her body was tense with pain and the reality of their situation, but she gave him a smile and he felt some of the terror drain away. Flemeth was watching, and she laughed, but kept her thoughts to herself. Eventually, Jaiden looked away, turning towards the witch.

"Why did you save us?"

"We cannot have all the Wardens dying at once, can we? You are needed to help unite the lands against the Blight, as the Wardens have always done." Flemeth gave them both a shrewd look. "Or did that change when I was not looking?"

"Of course not." Jaiden had drawn herself up to her full height, which was still lower than Alistair's shoulders. He could almost see the guise she adopted, stepping into her role as Warden, albeit a new, somewhat scared and confused Warden. "Duncan told us to be worthy of our title and we will be."

"And what of Loghain?" The portion of Alistair not trembling in fear at the monumental task ahead of them was shaking with rage at the teryn's betrayal. "Why would he do something like this? The king was his son-in-law!"

"That is a good question." Flemeth crossed her arms, her voice more sombre. "Men's hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature. Perhaps he believes the Blight is an army her can outmanoeuvre. Perhaps he does not see that the evil behind it is the true threat."

"The archdemon." Alistair's head filled with images of the monster from his dreams. How in Thedas were two rookie Wardens supposed to beat something like that.

"Then we need to find this archdemon." Jaiden's voice was flat, and her expression inscrutable.

"By ourselves?" Alistair hadn't the faintest idea where to start and he was supposed to be the senior Warden, for the Maker's sake! "No Grey Warden has ever defeated the Blight without the armies of half-a-dozen nations at its back!"

"We can seek out help." Jaiden dug around in her pack and pulled out a few scrolls, stamped with the Warden's seal. Something like hope bloomed in Alistair's chest as he recognised the treaties they had been sent to collect before the whole mess started. "These must be honoured."

"Well…it's a start…" Alistair shifted from foot to foot. "But Loghain obviously sees the darkspawn as a minor threat. If the nobles oppose him, there will be civil war, and the Blight will swallow the country before he has time to blink. We have to challenge him."

"How?" Jaiden had actually bared her teeth at the sound of Loghain's name, but he was obviously less of a concern to her than the darkspawn. "Do we stroll up to the palace and knock?" Alistair was about to retort when an idea came to him.

"Arl Eamon. He wasn't at Ostagar, he still has all his men. We could appeal to him to oppose Loghain. His soldiers could give us extra weight at the Landsmeet." Despite himself, Alistair felt his spirit lifting. The task still seemed impossible and he wasn't sure they would survive long enough to bring the fight to Loghain, but a plan was beginning to take shape and with plans, there were orders. Alistair was good at following orders.

He looked down at Jaiden, who was still examining Flemeth. "So can we do this? Go to Redcliffe and these other places, and build an army?" The elf broke her stare and smiled at him.

"Why not? Isn't that what Grey Wardens do?"

"So you are set then?" Flemeth was observing them both, but focusing most of her attention on Jaiden, perhaps scenting her inexperience.

"As ready as we'll ever be."

"Then I have one more thing I can offer you." As Morrigan exited the hut, Alistair's growing sense of trepidation returned.

**O**

Flemeth watched her daughter follow the Wardens, shooting a last vicious glare at her before they disappeared over the rise.

These would be interesting times. Her magic was more than enough to keep the darkspawn from her door, but she had already seen a few surrounding Chasind settlements ravaged by the Blight. There was not much in her that could still feel emotion, and she simply hoped that as many of them had made it out as possible. If the tribes were culled, she would have to search further afield to sate her appetites.

The last two Wardens in Ferelden were young, barely fledglings, and there was a naivety in the male's eyes that spoke of trouble later on if they needed to do anything the civilised folk considered immoral to strengthen their advantage. She did not envy her daughter. Travelling far from everything she had known, facing danger, these were things she knew Morrigan could handle. Winning the templar over…not so much. The boy was an honest and good sort, the type with a tendency to meddle and impose morality on things Flemeth was pretty certain that any Creator would not be the least bit bothered by.

The elf, though…

The boy was obviously under the impression that his companion shared his innocence. He had deferred to her in conversation, but his stance had always been protective, as though preparing to block her from a surprise attack.

To an extent, he was right; she was new to authority, new to responsibility, and definitely new to straight fighting as opposed to knocking people out in dark alleyways. Flemeth had glimpsed a little of the girl's soul and seen somebody who stolen and lied her way through her life so far, strong ties with her family maintained by shared spoils as well as love. She had a selfless streak that could prove debilitating, however.

_Very interesting._

The kind who took her pleasures where she could get them. It was a useful trait, facing a quest as monumental as the one facing the Wardens. She could use those eyes in a way Morrigan had never learned, making people believe she was defenceless while sizing them up. It was likely the only way she had managed to survive life in the alienage.

Flemeth smirked. She almost wished that she was to travel with them; watching the templar's face when he realised how wrong his assessment of the elf had been would be priceless.

Perhaps Morrigan could describe it to her when she returned.

The day was winding on and the sounds of clanking armour had faded away. Flemeth returned to her hut, feeling a thrill of anticipation at the gift her daughter would bear on her return. It was going to be a long time, but she had waited over two hundred years for such power. She could be patient.

She pulled the robes she had been working on out of the chest, her fingers flickering over it as she worked her enchantments. She had all the time in the world to get it right.

**O**

**Next chapter, everyone's favourite Orlesian bard makes her appearance! **


	4. Lothering

"'Scuse me, Sister?"

Leliana looked up from her small mug of watery ale at the grizzled soldier standing at her table. He was bent slightly forward in a supplicating gesture, and she gave him her best beatific smile.

"May I help you?"

"You could." He produced a slip of paper, which had two very rough drawings scrawled across it. The only discernable details were of a man and an elf of ambiguous gender, both in armour. "Have you seen any people arriving in Lothering who look even vaguely like these two? They're Grey Wardens who may have deserted during the battle at Ostagar."

Leliana shook her head. "To be fair, I can hardly tell what they are." The soldier made an apologetic grimace.

"Sorry to take up your time." He gave her a halting bow and moved away, speaking to the people curled up on the floor beside her seat.

Dane's Refuge was packed to the rafters with refugees. Most simply slept where they dropped, hoping that the eyes all around them would prevent anybody from simply rummaging through their belongings. The tavern had long since run out of food, and judging by the weakness of her drink Leliana assumed that the landlord had been taking a few unorthodox measures to stretch his supply of ale as far as he could.

Leliana wished she could help. There were some people starving right there on the floor, but she had nothing to give them now except prayers. Most had accepted this, although she had ended up shaking off a few persistent people who asked her to put in pleas on their behalf to the Revered Mother. Even if Leliana had not ended her time in the cloister earlier that week, there was nothing the Mother could have done. The town was pushed far beyond its limits and the people who had flowed in ahead of the darkspawn horde were leaving as fast as they could – which wasn't nearly fast enough. There were always more coming in, each group with a more terrible story than the last. Leliana's heart ached for them.

She comforted herself with the thoughts of her mission, ignoring the quickening in her blood that had more to do with the excitement of something new than piety. She had a greater purpose, and she used it to shut her ears to the suffering around her. Loghain's soldiers had been respectful because of her chantry robes, but the way they grabbed other women and knocked the men about had caused her to half-rise from her seat a few times, only to force herself back down. There was no point in getting killed in a bar fight. It would be a waste, not to mention highly embarrassing.

Every time the door opened, Leliana twisted in her seat, hope rising in her, sinking swiftly as more refugees came in and were turned away. The day was crawling on and she continued to nurse her drink, not wishing to imbibe any more alcohol than was necessary to keep her seat.

The soldiers had started on a man who was telling one of them off for making a swipe for his daughter, when the door opened again. There was a clatter of armoured feet, voices, a booming bark, and the commander turned around. Leliana's heart sank as the man's face lit up.

It became evident that the elf was, in fact, a woman. She appeared to be leading the group, which consisted of a man in heavy chainmail, a woman holding a mage's staff and dressed in nothing but rags, and the largest dog Leliana had ever seen.

"Look what we have here, men." The commander was grinning, gesturing at the new arrivals. "I think we've just been blessed." The elf folded her arms, glowering at him.

"Would you be the soldiers who've been kicking people's heads in all day?"

Her companions were tensing. The dog crouched close to the floor, ready to leap upon the first man who dared to draw a sword against his mistress, and the mage was beating a soft tattoo against the floor with her staff, apparently eager for a fight.. The soldiers spoke amongst themselves, and Leliana pushed herself up from the table. Her heart was racing and she had to wipe her palms against her robes to stop them sweating.

"Gentlemen." They turned their heads to her. Loghain's men no longer looked inclined to be nice to her and the elf was wary, not sure if she was friend or foe. "There is no need for trouble. These are no doubt simply more poor souls seeking refuge."

"They're more than that." The commander did not even look at her. His gaze was fixed on the Wardens, a greedy expression crossing his face. "Now stay out of our way, Sister, or you'll get the same fate as them."

"It looks like they want a fight." There was relish in the elf's voice. Her arms came up and fluidly removed her weapons from their sheaths, and she placed a foot back, adopting a solid defensive position. Leliana drew her dagger, willing her arms to stop shaking. There was only a moment's pause and then the soldiers charged forwards. The elf slipped under their guard and lunged upwards, piercing two through the stomach in a swift motion that Leliana could barely follow.

Not wanting to be outdone, she joined the fray, slamming the pommel of her dagger into a soldier's cheekbone, ignoring the urge to wince as it shattered beneath the metal. She swept down and sliced at his hamstring, and the man crashed to the floor like a felled tree. A ball of lightning flew over her head, and slammed into the chest of another of Loghain's men, who flailed and twitched about before collapsing with smoke pouring from his armour. The dog had flattened a victim of its own, and the male Warden was sweeping his shield about, knocking people to the floor in an impressive display of strength.

It was over quickly. As the elf lunged forward, the commander dropped his weapons, holding up his hands and begging for mercy.

"Good." Leliana was breathing so hard that she could barely talk and her pulse beat fast, but _Maker_, how she had missed a good fight! She had fallen back into it so naturally…"We can stop now."

"They would have reported us to Loghain and had us arrested as traitors." The elf looked down at the cowering man with no small measure of disgust. "We cannot let them go." Her sword flashed down.

"Wait!" The man cried out, but Leliana was there fast, catching the Warden's wrist just before the blade cleaved the man's head open. The elf glared at her with a mixture of disbelief and outright fury.

"They surrendered! They were no match for you!" Blue eyes met green as they stared each other down. The elf dropped her gaze first, gritting her teeth, and pulled her hand away sharply. Leliana held her breath, wondering what the Warden would do.

"Be thankful she is here." The elf gestured towards the door with her sword. "Start running. Keep going. And if we meet again I will kill you instantly." The commander was gone so fast, muttering his thanks to Leliana as he passed, leaving his butchered men behind without a second glance. The elf wiped a hand over her forehead, grumbling, and Leliana stepped up to her.

"I'm sorry for interfering, but I couldn't just sit by and not help." The group put their weapons away and turned all eyes on her. Leliana couldn't recall ever being this nervous, but she held her ground.

Eventually, the elf smiled thinly.

"So I see. Where does a cloistered sister learn to fight like that?"

Leliana had not realised that any of them had paid much attention to her during the actual scuffle. She shuffled nervously, but kept her tone light.

"I was not born in the cloister, you know. Many of us had more…colourful lives before we joined." The elf's expression had now changed from annoyed to intrigued, and Leliana became bold.

"That man said that you are Grey Wardens. You are fighting the darkspawn, yes? That is why I am coming along."

There was a burst of disbelieving laughter from the mage, and the male Warden was looking at her as though she were mad. The elf, on the other hand, tipped her head to one side, examining her intensely.

"Interesting. What makes you think that we would allow that?" There was no aggressiveness in her voice, just plain curiosity. Leliana summoned all her courage.

"The Maker told me to go with you."

She had been expecting bafflement, derision, or outright hostility. Maker knew that few elves looked kindly on the chantry itself, and she was beginning to wish that she had swapped out her robes for something plainer before heading to the tavern that morning. Certainly the other Warden did not think much of her statement.

"More crazy? I thought we were full up." He did not even bother trying to pitch his voice low, and the elf laughed openly. However, she still did not take her eyes off Leliana.

"Could you…elaborate?" The female Warden seemed interested, if in a cautious fashion, as though testing unknown ground in case it collapsed.

"I…I know it sounds insane." The mage made a scoffing noise and the man smirked. "But you have to believe me! I had a dream… a vision!"

"Do visionaries not usually end up dead in the old tales?" The mage commented. "T'would be better for your own sake to stay as far away from us as possible."

"The Maker told me to follow you." Leliana pressed on, determined. "And I will. Whether you want me or not."

"Hm." The elf was weighing her up, and a flash of indecisiveness appeared in her eyes. She looked back to her male companion, who shrugged helplessly. _She's new to this_. "You are very handy with a blade…but how are you with a bow?"

"Better." Now was not the time for modesty. She had to sell herself. "I prefer it, in fact. I can hit moving targets from a hundred yards." The male Warden looked impressed, but the elf was still appraising.

"You had better not be exaggerating. We may come to rely on that skill in the future." She paused. "Tell me your name."

"Leliana."

"I am Jaiden Tabris." The elf caught Leliana's hand and gave it a single shake. "Welcome to our band of wandering misfits, Maker help you."

"Did the blow to your head knock the manners from you?" The mage wondered aloud. "Perhaps t'would be nice to consult your current companions before taking on another?" No reply was forthcoming as Jaiden went over to the bar, passing over a few coins for drinks and damages, leaving Leliana standing awkwardly with the others. The mage sighed. "I am Morrigan. The bucket of drool on four legs is Boy, and the tin-plated dimwit is Alistair."

"Hey!"

Leliana looked down on the dog with amusement, as he snuffled around her feet. "Boy?" Morrigan rolled her eyes.

"Our leader has many talents, but imagination would not appear to be one of them." Leliana leaned down, tickling Boy behind the ears. He made an appreciative huffing noise.

"If he starts sounding like he's about to cough up a hairball, I'd get out of the way." Alistair was smiling at her, his crack about her mental stability apparently having already been forgotten. "He ate all Morrigan's herbs earlier and they are finding new, impressive, and ultimately disgusting ways to exit his system." Leliana took a sharp step backwards.

"Lovely."

"Serves him right, the glutton." Morrigan glared down at the hound, who uttered a placating whine. Jaiden returned, stuffing a few papers into her bag. Alistair raised an eyebrow.

"What're those?"

"Contracts." She pointed to where a man was lounging in the corner, picking his nails with a dagger, one elbow resting on an intricately carved box on the table beside him. "He's a Blackstone Irregular – a mercenary company. They'll pay us good money for a little bit of recruitment and admonishment."

"Mercenaries?" Alistair frowned. "Are you sure they aren't secretly working for Loghain? Whoever has the highest pay gets the men, and we aren't exactly rolling in it right now."

Jaiden's face dropped. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet.

"That didn't occur to me." She glanced over her shoulder at the man, who waved languorously at her. "I knew a few Irregulars back in Denerim. I supposed…"

"It would serve you well to abandon all your previous suppositions," Morrigan said sharply. "Nothing is certain for you, not anymore. 'Tis fortunate that you are not some innocent-minded idiot who goes around bleating about the natural good of humanity;" – here she shot a glance at Leliana – "but whatever you did take to be trustworthy before is gone. Caution aids survival."

Rage flared in Leliana's chest at the witch's barbed comment. And yet, she could not fault the basic message. Vigilance did ensure longer life. The only time she had truly thrown caution to the winds, everything she had known had been shattered. She settled for giving Morrigan a furious glare. The witch smirked.

"Nonetheless." Jaiden's voice cut the tension, and Leliana exhaled slowly, bringing her anger back under control. "We desperately need coin. At the very least to get you kitted out." She pointed at the ex-sister, who was now even more aware of just how stupid attacking fully armoured men while in her robes had been.

_Wonderful. Five minutes in and I'm a burden._ There was no resentment in Jaiden's tone, however. The misery that had overtaken her when Alistair doubted her decision was gone, replaced by a firm authority that the male Warden did not appear eager to contest.

"We still have to pick up our pay from the Chanter's Board," he reminded his companion.

"That'll be enough for now. We can fill these contracts as we travel anyway." Jaiden was heading for the door. "There's no way we're going to get rooms here tonight. Looks like we're camping." She cast a doubtful look at Leliana. "I'm not sure if we have enough money to get you a tent as well."

"Just give her yours," Morrigan said, evidently itching to leave the inn. Now that the fighting had settled the various men around were openly staring at her and the witch was plainly not that comfortable with so much attention. "It is not as though you have used it since we set out."

"Fair enough." Jaiden pushed the door open. "And Sten says he can fend for himself as well. More money for better armour, I suppose." She strode out, Alistair trailing a few steps behind.

Morrigan took one step out, but turned, giving Leliana a searching look. Leliana met her gaze and the two women stared each other out for a moment, before the witch turned on her heel and took her exit.

Leliana followed, excited and fearful. It had been a very long time since she had done anything so reckless and all the propriety in the world could not smother her anticipation.

**O**

Morrigan sat by the fire, drawing her furs closer around her. It was a pleasant change to be camped on ground that was not swampy. And today had been somewhat less tedious than those preceding it.

It had taken around two days for the group to travel to Lothering, and in that time the templar had nearly driven her insane with asinine questions about her life, apparently both repulsed and intrigued by her and Flemeth. When she had sniped at him, he had eventually fallen silent, but the questions were replaced with glances loaded with alternating fear and disgust. Jaiden had strode on ahead, doing her best to avoid leading them right into the horde, but still growing accustomed to her new senses. She had displayed a light wit that had initially worried Morrigan, thinking that their leader was frivolous, but her growing efficiency at killing the darkspawn soon dealt with that.

Jaiden was raw, that was certain. She had the bad habit of sneaking up on the strongest enemy and then killing them outright – a move that caused useful confusion, but inevitably left her in the middle of a group of very angry darkspawn. Alistair had been attempting to teach her to use her bow and attack from a distance more often, but apparently it wasn't taking. Jaiden liked her dual blades and wielded them surprisingly well, when she wasn't employing a spectacularly stupid form of tactics.

She was very nervous about making decisions, however. Morrigan had wanted to rip her own ears off in frustration as the Wardens talked back and forth for hours about their options, none of them wanting to commit to a course of action, until finally Jaiden had taken control. Since then she had been the undisputed leader, and although she always glanced over her shoulder to see what her companions thought, Alistair inevitably gave that same frustrating shrug, and Morrigan took to fantasising about changing him into something without limbs.

Perhaps a log.

Temporarily, of course.

Today, finally, there had been change, and while the day had been filled with a seemingly endless array of tasks that Jaiden could only justify by stating that they needed the money, there were the interesting parts. Morrigan almost wished their new female companion could have seen them scare the living daylights out of the Revered Mother before stealing her key for Sten's cage. Alistair had blustered, of course, and on this one occasion when he actually appeared to have an opinion, Jaiden had ignored him entirely.

The decision to recruit Sten had surprised Morrigan. Jaiden had listened to the story about the brutal murders with obvious horror, but after quietly speaking to the qunari away from them she had decided he would be of use. Whatever the silent qunari had said had not convinced the elf of his good intentions – her frequent glances over at where Sten stood immobile at the edge of camp said as much – but simply assured her that he would be a valuable asset.

As to Leliana…

Oh, she had not been lying about her skill with a bow. The moment camp had been set, Jaiden had started putting the woman through a series of strenuous exercises and demonstrations that left Leliana gasping for breath. She had been taught well, although she was just rusty enough for the elf to have given her a sharp smack on the forehead with the flat of a blade during a sparring exercise. Jaiden was doing the best she could, and Morrigan could not deny that the new girl was useful.

But she was hiding something.

Morrigan had assumed the woman's reaction to seeing Sten waiting for them on the outskirts of Lothering would be horror or anger, followed by berating Jaiden for letting the qunari free. She had been shocked, certainly, but stated that nobody deserved the unofficial death sentence that had been put upon his head.

Her allusions to a 'more colourful life' had apparently been forgotten, or at least ignored for now, by both of the Wardens. Whatever that had involved, she had been trained well in weaponry, and some deception and sleight of hand. When they had been short only a few silvers for an extra tent, Leliana had taken off, and Morrigan had followed. The ex-sister had sidled up to another of the merchants, and while he was preoccupied with trying to stare down her robes Leliana had made off with a handful of coins. It was with no small amusement that Morrigan had noticed Jaiden, a few yards off but obscured from the other woman's sight, openly cutting somebody's purse, right in the middle of the crowd, without anybody else spotting her.

_What I wouldn't give for the fool to see that. _

So, their current band consisted of herself, a foolish, moralistic templar, a woman who harped on about the chantry while proving every thought Morrigan had ever entertained about the hypocrisy of that particular organisation, a murderous giant, a reeking dog, and an elf with a penchant for thieving and stabbing people in the neck. Oh, how the archdemon would tremble.

**O**

Jaiden had already tucked in for the night. Despite Alistair's insistence on getting a spare tent, the elf seemed to prefer sleeping out of doors, setting her bedroll as close to the fire as possible without actually catching alight. Out of her armour, fast asleep, she looked impossibly young. Leliana and Alistair had drawn the short straws for first watch, and as they walked around the perimeter the male Warden filled Leliana in.

"If you see her thrashing about, don't be afraid to wake her up," he instructed. "Grey Wardens suffer from rather severe nightmares, and I gather she's got a few demons of her own to deal with. It's better to wake her up and hope she falls back asleep than having her eventually collapse on the road from lack of proper rest." Leliana nodded.

"Demons of her own?" Alistair glanced at Jaiden, checking she was properly asleep. The elf did not stir.

"I don't know the details," he admitted. "Duncan had to conscript her from the Denerim alienage, which presumably means that she was in trouble at the time. She's made…references…to what happened, but when one of the other recruits asked her about it she refused to say anything. I think it has something to do with how she got that scar. All I really know is that her mother is the one who taught her sword work, but she died when Jaiden was really young."

Leliana threw a glance at the sleeping Warden. Was her mother the only one who had taught her, or had there been other instructors who carried on after the woman expired?

"She mentioned that she knew a few mercenaries back in Denerim," she murmured. "Could she have been one of them, do you think?"

"I'd like to think not." Alistair fidgeted. "Sellswords don't really sit comfortably with me. It seems a bit – lacking in ethics, spilling blood for pay." Leliana stared at him for a moment, and then burst out laughing. "What?"

"You are such a chantry boy." Alistair raised an eyebrow.

"This coming from the mad nun who joined us only today?" Leliana swatted at his head. "Ow!"

"Sorry." Leliana's tone was not the least apologetic. "But she probably had to do what she needed to survive. Perhaps that sometimes meant doing things that were not strictly…well, approved of by the Maker."

She was testing ground here. If Alistair was disgusted by the idea then she would have to be very careful in what she revealed of her past. Despite Morrigan's assertions, Alistair seemed reasonably sharp, and if she slipped just once it could stop him – and therefore Jaiden – from trusting her.

Alistair pulled a face.

"Probably. But I don't think she ever – y'know – _silenced_ anybody. She spent half the battle at Ostagar screaming in fear whenever she ended up in a larger fight, although she kept her head reasonably well. And she doesn't like killing people; I can see it in her eyes."

"She seemed very willing to put down that commander in the tavern." There had been no hesitancy when the sword had come down, and it had been fortune for the man that Leliana's reflexes were sharper than her mind.

"It was a practical viewpoint," Alistair argued. "He's probably sent a report on our position now." He gave her a sidelong glance. "Why were you so eager to defend him? He was going to kill you as well for helping us."

"I know." Leliana's lips curled into a smile as she realised the heavy irony of what she was about to say. "I dislike taking life unnecessarily. Not all the refugees who had an eye on claiming your bounty attacked us outside Lothering. Some had already sneaked off to give word elsewhere. So there was no real point to killing him."

Alistair looked as though he was about to say something, but was cut off as a fearful moan fell from Jaiden's lips. They both turned to look at her as she rolled onto her stomach, burying her face in her pillow and clasping her hands over her ears.

"I'd better wake her before she suffocates."

Leliana nodded. Alistair knelt by his companion and very gently shook her awake. She sat up, digging a palm into her forehead as though trying to press something out. In the moments before she realised where she was, she looked so desperately vulnerable and scared that Leliana wanted to do nothing more than embrace the elf and murmur quietly to her until she was relaxed enough to sleep again. Alistair looked as though he was going to attempt the same thing, but simply pressed a hand against Jaiden's back until her breathing slowed.

Out of the leather strip Jaiden used to keep it back, her hair was surprisingly shaggy for an elf's, thick and falling to her shoulders in a ragged line that spoke of rough shears. Right now it veiled her face as she leant forward, gasping, Alistair muttering to her in comfort. Leliana sat a respectful distance away, her bow on her knees, watching until Jaiden regained herself. She sat up and looked at Alistair with a faintly surprised expression.

"This is familiar." Her voice was still thick with sleep and her eyes half-lidded, not yet properly awake.

"How so?"

"Duncan did this for me when I left Denerim."

At the mention of the Warden's name Alistair's hand fell away and he sat back on his knees, looking at Jaiden with a mixture of grief and expectation. She blinked at him slowly.

"You are like Duncan, you know," she said. "You're kind." A hand reached up and touched his cheek, a platonic gesture of comfort.

"Duncan could lead," Alistair muttered. "He was a better man than me." Despite his efforts, tears were beginning to form in his eyes, and Jaiden hauled herself onto her knees and pulled him into a hug. Alistair responded by clasping his arms around her waist and burying his head into her shoulder.

It was a strange sight. Alistair was still in his heavy chainmail whereas Jaiden was in her trews and tunic, making her look tiny in his embrace. Leliana knew that they had known each other for less than a week, but what they had undergone in that week had bonded them firmly, breaking through a number of barriers that probably would have taken months under normal circumstances.

"Do you want to talk about him?" Jaiden's free hand stroked the back of Alistair's head until he lifted it, wiping away his tears.

"You don't have to do that." Jaiden gave him a handkerchief and he accepted it gratefully, wiping his face. He was beginning to look really embarrassed now. "You didn't know him as long as I did." Jaiden looked at him, the sleepiness lifting from her face, replaced with sorrow.

"That doesn't mean I don't mourn his loss. He saved my life, and I wish he was around to see just how thankful I am for that."

Alistair looked downcast. "I shouldn't have gone to pieces like that. Duncan warned me right from the start that it was a possibility – I just didn't believe him. He seemed invulnerable." He took a breath. "I'm sorry."

Leliana was beginning to feel uncomfortable about witnessing this. The Wardens were discussing something personal to both of them and she could not really offer comfort without spouting clichés. Neither seemed to pay her any mind, however, and the part of her she had spent two years trying to suppress was telling her to stay and take note of anything that could prove useful later on. She eventually settled on not moving, hoping that they didn't notice her. She didn't feel like interrupting their moment.

"No harm done, Alistair." Jaiden patted his shoulder, evidentially now awake enough to feel awkward at the knight's proximity. "I've been worried about you. You've been so quiet over the last few days." Alistair smiled weakly at her.

"I like how you only notice there's something wrong because I'm not talking for once." Jaiden stuck her tongue out at him. "But I was just thinking…when this is all over, I want to have a funeral for him. For all the Grey Wardens. I don't think he had any family who would do it."

"He had you." The words were said softly, very cautiously, as though uncertain whether they would cause Alistair to shatter. Alistair looked unsure.

"I suppose…I just feel I should have been in the battle with him. I could have defended him…if I hadn't been in that tower." He rubbed the back of his head. "I guess that sounds stupid."

"He saved your life by sending you." Jaiden was still gentle, although Leliana could see from how her body was beginning to tense that she was looking at him like a wary cat. "I understand how you feel, though."

"Have you ever… lost somebody close to you?"

The question seemed to throw Jaiden off and she clasped her arms around her knees, staring into the fire. Her voice was quiet. "I saw plenty of death in the alienage."

"I imagine you really have, haven't you?" It was Alistair's turn to give her a sympathetic touch on the shoulder.

"Mm. I'd prefer not to talk about it."

"Fair enough. Anyway, I think Duncan came from Highever," Alistair said distantly. "I think I'll go there when everything is done with; put up something in his memory." The tension seeped from Jaiden's frame and she gave him a smile.

"I think I'll go with you." The smile was interrupted by a wide yawn and she lay back on her bedroll. "Sorry Alistair," she mumbled, "But I need to rest now."

"Okay. Sleep well."

"I'll try." It only took a few moments before Jaiden's breathing evened out and her body relaxed completely. Alistair stood again and came back to Leliana, settling on the log beside her.

"Sorry about that." He was staring at the ground, elbows on his knees, still slightly shaken with emotion.

"It is no worry," she assured him. "You need some more time to grieve, I imagine, and I won't think any less of you for crying. I don't know who this Duncan was to you, but you obviously cared for him a great deal."

"He was the Warden-Commander of Ferelden," Alistair said. "He fell at Ostagar."

"I heard of what happened there. You have my sympathies, if that means anything to you."

"Thank you." He picked himself back up again, filled with an agitated energy that made sitting still impossible. "You can get to bed if you want. I'm going around the perimeter again."

Leliana recognised this as a signal that Alistair wanted to be alone. "I'll wait here. See you in a minute." He nodded, his jaw tense, and Leliana watched him disappear into the trees surrounding the camp.

**O**

**Oof, this one ran away with me a little bit. I meant to finish with Morrigan's segment but my brain refused to switch off : )**


	5. Teagan Meets The Wardens

**I own nothing but Jaiden, yadda yoo. Redcliffe and a little character building. Next chapter will involve more action, I promise!**

**-Genjutsu-Dragon-**

**O**

"My lord?"

Bann Teagan forced his eyes open. He was lying sideways on a bench. Somebody had tucked a pillow under his head and thrown a blanket over him, obviously wanting to let him rest. A square of vellum lay on the floor; the start of yet another plea for help he had sat down to write before sleep had overcome him. He pushed himself into a sitting position and rubbed his eyes. One of the militia was standing before him, and saluted as soon as he managed to compose himself.

"What is it?"

"Thomas has left his post." Teagan groaned. Another deserter. There had been so many able-bodied men and women who had slipped away while everybody else was occupied trying to scout around for more armour. They'd had luck a few days back when a scouting group of darkspawn were spotted; the militia had promptly hunted down and killed them, taking armour and weapons and doling them out to whoever needed them most. The previous night's barrage had been strong, though, and the final piece of armour they had salvaged was ruined. Teagan could not fault the sisters for letting him sleep; one more night of attacks and he would likely just collapse from exhaustion in the midst of battle.

"Ugh. Well, send one of the others up. We need a guard standing - "

"He's not deserted sir; he's on his way down." Teagan blinked at the young man. "A group of heavily armoured people have just arrived; he's escorting them here to see you. I thought you might want to wake and be ready for them."

"Thank you." Teagan stood up and retied his sword belt, before hoisting his shield onto his shoulders. "Were they sent by anybody in particular?"

"I'm not sure. The only one of them carrying a shield has no design on it, and none of them are wearing noticeable colours."

"All right. Hopefully they will be willing to help us. Dismissed." The man saluted and left, leaving Teagan time to straighten his clothes and flatten the section of his hair that stood up like a startled porcupine. He rubbed his face. It was too much to hope for an armoured contingent; likely they were just travellers, stopping in Redcliffe for supplies. So much for that, with Owen incapacitated by alcohol. Teagan had pleaded with him through the door countless times, and it was certain the smith's neglect had cost lives. But the drunken idiot had kept babbling about his daughter, whom Teagan vaguely remembered as the arlessa's maid. He didn't seem able to make the connection between having enough force to defeat the monsters and being able to get into the castle.

The doors of the Chantry swung open and Thomas walked in, looking decidedly nervous. Teagan looked past him and could instantly see why.

In walked a mage, a qunari, a knight, a massive dog, and a woman in well-tooled leather armour with a bow. And leading the group, an elf with thick red hair hastily tied back, striding forward with a purposeful look on her face. Two blades sat at her shoulders.

"Good day, Thomas. Who are these people with you?"

"I thought you might want to see them," Thomas said quickly, his eyes darting back and forth between the elf and Teagan. "They're looking for Arl Eamon."

"I see." What on earth such a group of people would want with his brother was not something Teagan wished to contemplate; all he cared about now was recruiting them against the monsters. "Greetings. My name is Bann Teagan of Rainsfere, brother to the arl."

"I remember you, Bann Teagan." Surprised, Teagan shifted his gaze over to the knight, who was smiling at him in amusement. "Although I was a lot younger then, and covered in mud."

Teagan peered at him, shifting through his memories. He vaguely remembered a small boy, plastered in the stuff, running around outside the stables of Redcliffe Castle, before standing shame-faced under Isolde's scoldings. He could not help the grin had broke through as his memory supplied him with a name.

"Alistair? It's you, isn't it? You're alive! This is wonderful news."

"Still alive, yes." The smile slipped from his face and Alistair suddenly looked grim. "Although not for long if Teryn Loghain has anything to do with it." Teagan clenched his jaw. He had not liked Loghain long before he had shown his true colours, and he knew that punishment was likely coming for daring to stand against him at the Landsmeet following the king's death. He might call himself regent, but his men called him 'King Loghain', a title to which Teagan was determined that Loghain would never be worthy.

"Loghain would have us believe that all the Grey Wardens died along with my nephew. Although it has not stopped him looking out for any who may have 'deserted'." Teagan turned his attention back to the elf at the head of the group. "I don't doubt your mere existence is a thorn in his side."

"So you don't believe Loghain's lies?" The elf gave him a measured look, a faint spark of hope in her eyes, and he realised what a risk it had been simply walking into the village; if he had been a Loghain supporter, he could have ordered the militia to round up the group and claim the bounty. Although he didn't doubt that they would have killed plenty before being incapacitated. He also had not missed the way she did not use Loghain's title.

"No. He may claim treason on behalf the Grey Wardens, but the day I believe Wardens sided with darkspawn is the day I renounce my title and go to live amongst the Dalish elves." He finally gave the elf a good look. "So you are a Grey Warden as well? A pleasure to meet you. I wish it was under better circumstances." She was both surprisingly young and prettier than he expected of somebody able to lead the group, although the white line tracing down the left side of her face spoke of experience that made up for the lack of years. He took her hand and kissed it; it was only a matter of courtesy, but the elf's ears turned red and Alistair instantly looked a little defensive. The archer frowned.

"Uh…thank you." The elf was obviously unused to being treated with respect by nobles. "My name is Jaiden."

"Well met." The other members of the group introduced themselves, and Teagan followed protocol with each of them, before returning to the matter at hand. "You're here to see my brother? Unfortunately, that might be a problem. Eamon is gravely ill. Nobody has heard from the castle in days, no guards patrol the walls, and no one has responded to my shouts. The attacks started a few nights ago. Evil…things…surged from the castle. We drove them back, but many perished during the assault."

Jaiden frowned. "What evil things are you talking about?"

Teagan struggled to describe the monstrosities. The walking dead were more horrific than one could imagine; not just their rotting limbs and foul stench, but the way that every now and again, he would see a face he recognised, ravaged by the creatures before being reanimated as one of them. And seeing a few of them gathered around a fallen companion, tearing at its flesh…he had been unsure, after that first night, whether he would be able to see anything resembling beauty in the world again, after striking down his old comrades-in-arms.

He had reassured himself that he put them to rest, but further attacks were driving new irons into his soul, and even if they did have enough men and good armour he wasn't sure he could mentally withstand another night. "Each night they come with greater numbers. With Cailan dead and Loghain starting a war for the throne, nobody responds to my urgent calls for help."

Of course, there was always the chance that Loghain was purposefully ignoring him, taking advantage of the distraction in Redcliffe to keep yet another Bann from stirring up trouble. "I have a feeling that tonight's assault will be the worst yet." He turned back to Alistair. "I hate to ask, but we desperately need the help of you and your friends."

"You might want to address that question to our leader," Alistair replied pointedly. Jaiden had crossed her arms and was giving Teagan a look that made him revise his earlier assessment of her apparent inexperience. "And even if it was just up to me, the Grey Wardens don't stand a chance against Loghain without Arl Eamon."

Alistair turned, giving Jaiden a pleading look. Despite his words, he obviously desperately wanted to help the village he had grown up in, but he would defer to the elf. How often had Teagan seen that happen?

Not often enough.

"I have a question, first." Morrigan gave an irritated groan, and Sten made a disapproving rumbling noise in his chest. Teagan allowed hope to bloom; from the reactions of her companions, Jaiden had already made a decision in his favour. "Why not try to evacuate the village?"

"We did. Our one attempt resulted in immediate attack. The creatures also go after anybody fleeing on their own. Whatever assaults us wants the village dead."

"Hm." Jaiden looked thoughtful, but Leliana stepped forward and gave her a sharp tap on the arm.

"Stop stalling. You know you're going to help these people, there's no point in drawing it out hoping the arl will simply run out of the castle." Jaiden shrugged.

"Only two weeks and she reads me like an open book." She gave Teagan an encouraging smile. "Very well. We will help."

A wave of relief that surprised Teagan crashed over him. Certainly he would have preferred a proper regiment, but these people could easily be formed into a solid unit. Alistair and Sten as the centre, Morrigan and Leliana at the back, the dog and Jaiden running on ahead under cover to do damage from the shadows. Already his mind was organising them, working out how best to utilise them – up at the windmill, of course, to stop the bulk of the monsters from making it to the village at all…he shook his head, ignoring his inner tactician for now. "Thank you…this means more to me than you can guess. Thomas, tell Murdock what transpired, then return to your post."

"Yes, my lord." The boy walked away. He had barely moved during the conversation, but there was a lightness to his step that had not been there before. It had barely been five minutes since the Wardens had arrived and already morale was improving. He had to be brisk, however; the day was winding on and there was a lot to do. He turned to Jaiden, bowing his head in supplication so that she did not take offence.

"I've put two men in charge outside. Murdock, the mayor, is outside with the militia. Ser Perth, one of Eamon's knights, is up at the windmill. Discuss what needs to be done with them." Jaiden gave him a curt nod and turned, walking towards the other end of the Chantry. Alistair remained behind a moment.

"It is good to see you well, Bann Teagan."

"As it is you, Alistair. I was certain you were dead when the news of Ostagar reached us."

"To be honest, I'm amazed I'm still alive." Alistair looked over his shoulder at the rest of the group, who were currently talking to a woman Teagan thought was called Kaitlin. "But Jaiden's good and getting better. It gives me hope."

"Eamon was so proud when he heard you had been recruited into the Wardens," Teagan said, not sure what had prompted him to say it. "He was looking forward to seeing you at Ostagar, before circumstances…intervened." Alistair dropped his gaze.

"The arl cares nothing for me," he muttered, and for a moment Teagan felt he was looking at that sullen nine-year-old again, glowering under Isolde's reprimanding shrieks. "I…I'd best get back to the others. You said yourself we have a lot to do." Teagan did not belabour the point, knowing that Alistair would not listen.

"Maker go with you, then."

"And with you." Alistair returned to the group, and together they walked out through the chantry doors. Teagan sat back down, ignoring the dig of his hilt in his ribs. The adventurers would hopefully give them enough of an edge to at least drive the creatures back, enough for them to go into the castle. He felt a small sting of guilt at not telling them about the secret entrance, but the village came first.

After all, he could always apologise in the afterlife.

**O**

Jaiden strode up the hill, ignoring Alistair and Morrigan arguing yet again in the background. Nothing was ever simple, it seemed.

The two weeks of travelling to Redcliffe had been exhausting. Sten and Morrigan had both questioned the wisdom of heading straight to the arl, although for different reasons. Sten wanted to go straight to the Circle of Magi, although she suspected it was due to wanting to get any contact with mages out of the way as fast as possible. She'd heard tales of what the qunari did to anybody with magical abilities, and as tempting as enforced silence sometimes sounded she couldn't agree to such a barbaric practice. Sten had responded to this by stating that allowing mages to be permanently at risk from abominations was barbaric, and she had strode off from that conversation seething.

Morrigan, on the other hand, had been in favour of going directly to Denerim, hunting down Loghain, and killing him, therefore allowing them the freedom to go about their business without pressure from the usurper. Even Jaiden knew this was a stupid idea. Sure, she looked forward to jumping up and down on Loghain's mangled corpse, but killing him now, when the majority of Ferelden seemed convinced that he was a hero? It was suicide. And that was even assuming they got close enough to try anything.

She'd settled on Redcliffe first for the simple fact it was closest. Alistair was convinced that the arl would help, and they could definitely use a few more fighters. They'd had a few run-ins with darkspawn, but more with bandit groups, some of them so large and well-organised that Jaiden was surprised none of them had been killed just yet. However, she knew that she was gradually getting better. Despite his dislike of her, Sten had agreed to train her in swordplay and tactics, and battle was beginning to feel less like a game of 'Who Can Stab The Fastest' than an organised assault. She was still learning; that much was evident from the various bruises and cuts adorning her body. Morrigan tried her best, but she did not have the knack for healing, and Jaiden had taken to sewing as many of her wounds shut by herself as she could.

Alistair's admission when they had entered Redcliffe had caught her completely by surprise, and her first temptation was to shout at him for not mentioning his heritage earlier. If it had somehow come to Loghain's attention that not only had two Grey Wardens survived, but one of them was a likely candidate to the throne…the man would never cease the hunt for them.

Alistair was worried, and disliked his royal blood; only a few sentences had confirmed that he had no desire to be put on the throne, and the evident fright at the idea of Eamon offering him up as an alternative to Loghain had softened Jaiden's ire towards her fellow Warden. She had joked with him briefly about it, calling him 'Your Highness', with enough of a giggle to let him know that he was in no trouble with her.

He had relaxed, but only a little. As they had walked towards the castle, his stride was beginning noticeably more tense, and his fists were clenched at his sides.

Ser Donall in Lothering had warned them of the arl's poisoning, but Jaiden had been banking on the arlessa, or perhaps a steward, being available to pledge them some men, and perhaps start spreading the word of Loghain's treachery. She'd known from the moment Thomas had told them about the attacks that they would end up in the middle of it, but for the sake of Morrigan and Sten she tried to play the role of calculating Warden, working out the fastest way of getting into the castle without having to fight. Leliana had defused that and Jaiden was still annoyed at her.

Nonetheless, the bard's willingness to stop and help Kaitlin look for her brother in the midst of everything was heart warming, and when they had gone to Owen it had been she who suggested that they seek out the smith's daughter in exchange for lighting the forges again.

So Jaiden couldn't really hold a grudge.

As they reached the windmill, Jaiden hauled herself over the last slope, huffing slightly with exertion. She noticed her armour less and less these days, but it was still enough to encumber her. She stopped a moment, rubbing the sweat from her forehead, and looked around. There were a few knights dotted about, including one in a beautifully made suit of silverite. Ser Perth, presumably. He was engaged in conversation with a few of his fellows and Jaiden held back politely, waiting for him to finish.

The view was magnificent up here. The castle loomed above them, the village spread out below, and the day was clear enough for her to see miles across Lake Calenhad. If she squinted, she thought she could see the Circle Tower, far off in the distance. At least it would not take them long to reclaim the first treaty after all this.

Assuming they survived the night, of course.

As they waited, she noticed some trees growing next to the windmill, and delicate white flowers curled around the roots. Strange, everything else in Redcliffe looked so barren – although perhaps that was the red earth, which made everything seem scorched.

Flowers fascinated Jaiden; often, in the alienage, the only things of natural beauty were the weeds that pushed up between the cracks in the paving, and those were swiftly removed. Sure, she had found splendour in a well-crafted blade, or the subtle sweep of an arm lifting just the right amount of coins to avoid being detected. And there were a few people, as well, that were a pleasure to observe, both in movement and in simple aesthetic appeal.

But the inanimate blooms held her attention, and she carefully knelt and plucked a few, tucking them into her pack. She had got into the habit of cramming whatever scented herbs she could find into every crevice of her tent, to ward off the growing smell of sweaty elf Warden. A few of the sweet-smelling petals would do wonders.

This done, she walked past her still-squabbling companions, heading for Ser Perth. Bann Teagan's courteous response had thrown her off, but like everybody else they had met since leaving Lothering who wasn't inclined to instantly attack them, he boosted her confidence a little. Since leaving the alienage, only one person had talked down to her for her race, and she had left the quartermaster staunching his blood with no recriminations for it. The look on both his and Alistair's face had been entirely worth her split knuckles.

So it was with less surprise than the Jaiden of a fortnight ago would have expressed that she received the knight's words of greeting. "I do not know how to address an elf in your position – I do not wish to be rude."

She held out a hand and smiled broadly at him. "Call me Jaiden, if you would."

"As you wish, and thank you kindly." Ser Perth began to fill them in on his experiences of the attacks, as well as satisfying some questions about the Urn of Sacred Ashes that had been bugging Jaiden ever seen Ser Donall had mentioned the search. Oh, she believed well enough in the Maker, but anything to do with divine interference left her cold. She doubted that such a powerful being could have had its ear turned by a song and block out all the miserable cries to Him on a daily basis in favour of that.

She remembered one ex-brother from the Chantry declaring in the Denerim market that Andraste had been no bride of the Maker, but merely one of the most powerful mages ever born. He had been swiftly executed for his heresy, but the words had stuck in Jaiden's brain, damping down ever further belief in Andraste and her divine husband.

This made it a little grating whenever Leliana bought the Maker into anything.

The ex-sister had revealed herself to have had bard training in the two weeks since they left Lothering, and often spent part of her watch singing or reciting tales. She was also as dangerous with a bow as she had claimed. Jaiden had hastily put together some sparring exercises with Sten, and been impressed by Leliana's skill, although in two-blade combat she had been delighted to find herself the better, taking advantage of a gap in the guard to whack Leliana so hard on the head with the flat of her blade that the bard had actually been stunned.

Since then, some of the rust had been knocked off, and Leliana was regaining ground fast. The evening sessions were draining, as usually all Jaiden wanted to do was slurp down her dinner and sleep, but Sten was a disciplinarian. Every now and again, if she left too obvious an opening, his blade would come around and smack her hard on the back of the legs, sweeping them from under her and knocking her to the ground. It was obvious that he did not think her capable of leading, but he obeyed her orders for now, and it was not to be denied that there was the faintest gleam of satisfaction whenever Jaiden showed improvement.

It was all beginning to build her on her, though. The delight of travelling with and meeting humans who did not treat her like something they had stepped in did not compensate for the nightmares. How they were supposed to beat something like the archdemon was nothing anybody could tell her, and the whispering noise whenever darkspawn drew near was driving her nuts. And of course, if the archdemon was absent, Vaughan took its place, holding her down and laughing. Or Duncan, now horribly mangled, staring at her accusingly and chastising her for not moving fast enough. She had not slept through the night since leaving Flemeth's hut, and actually looked forward to the nights on watch. Morrigan and Sten did not converse with her, but Alistair eagerly answered her questions about the Wardens, although doing so always make his jocular mask crack, revealing the damaged man inside.

And of course Leliana was always willing to distract her with an epic ballad or two.

There was little else to be done until nightfall, so they waited by the windmill, attending to their weapons and armour. Alistair was still teaching Jaiden how to take care of her leather cuirass and the blades to keep them in peak condition, and Morrigan had given her good cause to remember to air her armour overnight; the mage, tired with the stink of leather and plate, had shot a small bolt at Jaiden's posterior when she bent over a steam to drink, causing the elf to fall in. Alistair had been scandalised, but once Jaiden hauled herself out she could see the funny side. Although watching both Leliana and Morrigan laughing themselves silly over the same thing had been unnerving. Even more so when she noted that _Sten_ had allowed himself a small smile.

"Jaiden, may I ask a question?" Leliana was re-fletching a few of her arrows, but had evidentially tired of silence.

"Go ahead."

"How was life in the alienage? Was it…so terrible as I hear?" Jaiden looked up, lowering her sword and chewing at her lip.

"It was hard," she said, eventually. "We lived in harsh conditions and sickness usually carried off great numbers of us. The humans liked to come in and kick us around a bit, and if we tried to fight back they called the guard and got people hauled away." She allowed herself a smirk. "Some of us chose less…obvious methods of getting revenge." She held up a thin band between her fingers, and Leliana started.

"By all the holy…how did you do that?" Jaiden laughed, giving back the ring she had palmed when Leliana had shuffled too close.

"Years of practice. Although the first time I did it I got collared and beaten." The worst thing about that had been seeing her father's face in the crowd while she had been laid out on the stones, gasping in pain each time the cudgel rattled her ribcage. He had looked so terrified, and she knew at that moment he had been thinking of Adaia. She was much more careful – and discerning with her targets – after that. "There were a few others times when I got caught, but I made sure I was well away from the alienage whenever I stole so they couldn't drag my family into it."

"Strange. One would not think you so – nimble-fingered." There was no criticism behind Leliana's words; just curiosity. "Although I suppose your skill with your blades would argue to the contrary. Did you receive training?"

Jaiden broke eye contact with her, turning back to sharpening her sword, but answered, keeping a tight rein on her emotions as she spoke. "Elves are not permitted to carry swords. My mother taught me when I was young, in secret. My father knew about it, and was frightened that we would both be carried off, so kept his mouth shut. Mother was so good at what she did." Lock-picking and fighting had been her trades. "She was killed when I was very young. I kept practicing the forms, and my cousin Soris sparred with me every once in a while, but he was too scared of getting caught to do it often. I only started properly training again on the road to Ostagar."

A small frown on Leliana's face told Jaiden that the bard had not missed the insinuation about her mother's death. "Your mother was…killed?" Jaiden nodded. A memory drifted over her; crying for Mother late one night, alone in her family hut. After what seemed like an eternity, the door opened, and her father walked in, alone. He had come over and held her in his arms, his face buried in her shoulder, and she could feel his tears through her nightclothes. She'd known then that her mother was never coming back.

"A group of humans murdered her." She was amazed at the detachment with which she said it. It was almost as though she was talking about another elf's mother, years ago. The guilt at Shianni's fate was still too raw to probe at, but Mother felt like another lifetime. "I don't know the circumstances; Father would never tell me. But we never got a body to bury, so I assume that it was not an easy death."

There; a small spark of pain. It must have shown in her eyes, because Leliana tentatively put an arm around her, and Alistair, who had apparently been listening in, squeezed her hand. It was amazing how the three of them had bonded so quickly; several walls that should have been existed between herself and Alistair had been broken by what they had experienced at Ostagar, and Leliana was simply – how she hated using the word – _nice_. If apparently a little loopy from a religious viewpoint, but as far as Jaiden was concerned theirs was not the most mentally stable group to begin with.

"It's okay," she said, carefully relaxing herself until enough tension had gone for the pair to withdraw. "It was years ago. She didn't deserve the death she got, and I wanted to hunt down the humans who did it to her. But I was too young." She forced her usual smirk back onto her face. "I chose to honour her by making life as difficult as possible for them instead. Besides, I didn't like the idea of shedding blood."

"And yet here you are," Morrigan butted in, "Harvesting lives with barely a flicker of concern. Those bandits did not have much chance to defend themselves from your blades, did they?"

"They attacked us, Morrigan," Alistair growled.

"I am merely pointing out that our leader is becoming more efficient at what is required of her to survive." Morrigan crossed her arms. "She should take comfort from such words, surely?"

"Like you would ever want to comfort anybody," Alistair said, standing and squaring up to the witch.

"She is not some delicate flower in need of coddling," Morrigan persisted. "She needs to be aware of what she does, and be firm in her belief that it is what needs to be done. Thus far, she is proving herself to be willing to kill, but still overladen with ethical obligations to others who owe her nothing. There must be some way of simply infiltrating the castle without having to fight tonight."

"And you would simply let the village perish while we did it?" Morrigan shrugged.

"It is not my concern."

Jaiden stood up and they both stopped, expecting her to intervene. She simply walked away, sitting at the cliff edge with her back to them, the set of her muscles a display of aggression that would hopefully tell them to stop dragging her into the argument.

Killing was becoming easier, that was true. And she could feel not guilt for it; not one person who had died by her blade had not attacked her first. She dug a hand in the dirt, rubbing some between her fingers and absently watching how her pale skin stained orange. She realised she would much rather be here than at the alienage on a good day, and that frightened her. Jaiden Tabris of the Denerim Alienage had been a shameless cheater at cards, always with a ready smile and a sense of humour, willing to take bets on how long it would take to snag this or that noble's purse. She had avoided fighting outside her sparring sessions, knowing that to draw human blood was to draw attention.

Jaiden of the Grey Wardens enjoyed fighting. It was cathartic; in amongst the dying screams of the darkspawn, she found a release from the memories that haunted her at night, and considered it a middle finger to the archdemon. _Made it through another day. Wiped out a bunch of your children. Scared of me yet?_ She couldn't imagine that the demon was, but it was a motivating thought, nonetheless. Everyone she met seemed to think of her being honest, although old habits dyed hard and her companions were fully aware that they could only afford some of their equipment because of her sticky fingers. She was becoming somebody else.

Footsteps sounded in the dirt and Leliana dropped down beside her.

"Are you alright?" Jaiden nodded.

"Fine. They were just getting on my nerves." She offered the bard a smile. "Besides, I was going to tell you that there was some joy in the alienage. I had my family. Our community was strong, and if one suffered everyone else did their best to help. There were personality clashes - " a memory flashed through her head of being dragged off a young Taeonor after he had insulted Soris, attempting to beat him to a bloody pulp – "but for the most we worked together."

"Why did you leave?"

It was a simple question, but as Vaughan's face suddenly reared in her mind's eye she felt a rush of rage. Alistair had not asked so directly about her circumstances, although she knew he was curious. Her first temptation was to snap at Leliana, telling her that it was none of her business. Besides, the bard had refused to extrapolate on what had driven her to Ferelden and the Chantry in the first place. She had been seeking shelter, Jaiden had picked up on that much, but if Leliana couldn't trust her with that, why trust her with what happened in the arl's estate?

The fury subsided as quickly as it had risen, however. It wasn't Leliana she should be angry at. She exhaled slowly, bringing herself back under control.

"That's something I'd rather not talk about now, if you don't mind."

Leliana still flinched, and Jaiden silently cursed. Her voice had come out sharper than intended, and she immediately tried to placate the bard.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to snap. It's just that it was – a really rough time for me. I can tell you that I left because if I'd stayed, I would have been slowly and horribly killed. Probably in front of my family. Duncan saved my life by calling the Rite of Conscription." Leliana looked at her with a wary expression.

"If I may ask – why would you have been slain?"

"That's about the same as asking me what happened outright," Jaiden replied sardonically. "But omitting the nastier details of what happened; I was to be executed for murder. Lots of them, in fact."

The bard's eyes went wide, and Jaiden was aware from the sudden silence behind her that Alistair and Morrigan were listening in again.

"Murder?"

"Yes." How scared she'd been then, Vaughan's blood plastering her skin, her hands slick with the stuff, only just managing to support Shianni out of the estate before her own knees collapsed. Her father had held her close when she returned, murmuring soothing words into her ear, but it hadn't been enough. She left her tattered wedding dress behind, but Nelaros' ring still sat on her finger, a constant reminder of what other people had suffered to help her escape. She twisted it around the digit. "It was necessary."

Before anybody else could comment, she stood up again, retrieving her sword and beginning to strap her gauntlets back on. "It's almost sundown. Time to start getting ready."

**O**

**I fancied getting a brief look from Teagan's point of view at the events in Redcliffe. He got a few and then Jaiden, probably annoyed that she didn't get a point of view in the last chapter, ran away with it again. **


	6. Storming The Castle

**Sorry about the late update; I wrote about 12 pages of this chapter, wasn't happy, deleted the lot and started again. This was beta'd once again by SpiritWarrior 22; go have a look at his stories!**

**-Genjutsu-Dragon-**

**O**

"Dawn arrives, my friends, and we all live. We are victorious!" Bann Teagan's hair was still plastered to his forehead with sweat, his once fine clothes ripped and smeared with the viscous fluids the undead had shed in lieu of blood. But he looked ten years younger than the haggard man who had greeted their motley band the previous day. The exuberance of survival shone in his eyes, and only his noble upbringing stopped him from punching the air.

Jaiden stood alongside him, smiling but by contrast exhausted. The battle had been a hard one and the undead waves had never ceased until dawn; she had thrown herself in front of the militia members countless times, taking blows for them, until she was nearly unrecognisable with her own blood and the gore of the enemy. The moment the sun had risen and the attacks stopped, Morrigan had taken the elf off to apply as much healing poultice as they could spare, using a hastily learned spell for the deeper wounds.

The villagers clapped and cheered, and many eyes were turned in the direction of Jaiden, thankful cries falling from their lips. Leliana, watching Jaiden from her place a few steps above her, suppressed a smile. Despite being nearly dead on her feet Jaiden looked adorably awkward at the attention.

Sten and Alistair were looking a little worse for the wear as well, but they had both been trained from a young age to endure battle fatigue for a long time. Morrigan and Leliana had been far enough from the main fighting to never be truly hampered by the number of undead. Sheer grit had kept the elven Warden going through the night, and by rights she should be settling down in the Chantry for a rest – but Jaiden was having none of it. At some point she had resolved not to rest until the situation at the castle had been resolved, and the elf had a stubborn streak a mile wide. There was no talking her out of it.

"Here. I present to you the Helm of Ferris the Red, my great-uncle, as a sign of our gratitude." Jaiden accepted the helm gracefully, her slight fumble at the weight of it passing almost unnoticed. Teagan turned back to the crowd. "With the success of last night we can now enter the castle and seek out your arl." There was a round of applause before the Revered Mother stepped forward to administer rites for those who had fallen prior to their group's arrival.

Leliana noted that Jaiden said nothing while most others intoned 'so let it be.'

With the ceremony over, their group followed Teagan up to the windmill to hear his plans for infiltrating the castle. Leliana had insisted on keeping an eye on Jaiden, who was moving slowly in an attempt to regain some stamina, and so Alistair had very reluctantly taken up the mantle of leader for now. Although Leliana did not doubt that if there were any big decisions to be made the bastard prince of Ferelden would be back like a shot.

Alistair as prince. What a strange thought. The boy was endearing in his buffoonery, although obviously nervous at the idea of having any responsibility at all. She couldn't blame him for this, considering their eclectic company. He and Morrigan loathed each other, although to be fair the dark-haired mage left Leliana on edge as well. It was the way she looked at everything as though she were examining a dead beast by the roadside.

Jaiden walked at a careful pace which indicated that her injuries were being sorely felt. Leliana kept alongside her, watchful in case the Warden slipped on the steep slope to the windmill. The vicious battering she had taken had not just amounted to blunt ends of clubs and swords – the previous night was the first time Jaiden had ended up on the wrong end of a shield bash, and Leliana's heart had leapt into her throat as the skeleton who had floored the Warden raised its sword to skewer her. Jaiden had rolled out of the way in the nick of time, buying Leliana enough space to put an arrow in the creature's chest, but from the delicate way she was walking the elf had badly bruised ribs.

Leliana prayed that if there was fighting to be done in the castle, it would not be too much.

She was pulled out of her reverie as Jaiden placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you all right? I saw you have a couple of close calls last night."

Leliana nearly laughed. Here she was worrying about the Warden when Jaiden was worrying about her.

"A few nicks, and a couple of large bruises, but nothing nearly as bad as you." She gave Jaiden a searching look. "Are you sure you don't want to rest before we go in?"

"Right now, I want curl up somewhere warm and sleep for the next week. But I need to try and get inside as quickly as possible and find out what's happening so the village doesn't have to endure another night of battle." Jaiden looked as though she was about to say something else, but she looked ahead and increased her pace, frowning. The others had been at the hilltop five minutes previously and been talking to Teagan; now a woman in elaborate noble's clothing was running down the hill from the castle, a single guard in tow. "Who is…?"

Jaiden picked up her pace, jogging up the slope and catching up to the others as the woman began to speak. With shock, Leliana recognised the accent of one of her own countrymen. Perhaps at one time it would have been welcome, but her stomach squeezed with apprehension. She remembered Alistair mentioning that his former guardian had married a young Orlesian woman but she had not been prepared for the way Isolde's voice had sent a wave of both nostalgia and terror over her. She remembered extravagant high court affairs, both as serving girl and as a debutante, able to switch from one day to the next without ever being questioned of her right to be there. It reminded her of what came after, as well. Not all of her tormentors had been men.

Jaiden was having a heated exchange with Isolde, her natural caution around nobility dropped in favour of outright suspicion at the woman's motives. It had not taken long for the arlessa to reveal that she was technically still a prisoner of whatever lay in the castle; it seemed that it held her son and husband hostage, and that only Teagan was allowed to return. The elven Warden was getting angrier, some of her weariness beginning to drop away, as she questioned the Bann's sanity in agreeing to go with Isolde.

Leliana could see Jaiden getting more irritated as Teagan pulled her aside to speak with her. They spoke for only a few terse sentences before Teagan gave their group a nod and pressed something into Jaiden's palm, before turning and trailing after Isolde. Jaiden clenched her fist around the object, her breath hissing out her nose and her eyes clenched shut. After a few moments, she opened them again, and the Warden was back in place, tiredness banished by sheer annoyance.

"Right. We can get into the castle via a secret passage in the windmill."

"And the Bann neglected to tell us this why?" Morrigan queried.

"He said he needed us to defend the village. Else we would have simply headed straight into the building and ignored their pleas for help. His faith in us was most touching." Jaiden sounded scarily like the witch when she was being sarcastic.

"Would you have let us? I was under the impression that we would have saved the village anyway."

Jaiden shrugged.

"No point in dwelling on it. Let's get on."

She pushed open the door to the windmill and hefted open a barely concealed trapdoor hidden under some straw near the entrance. The item Teagan had given her turned out to be a signet ring that opened the passageway, but Leliana knew what the others were thinking; they could have simply given Sten a maul and had him smash his way in if they had found it the previous day.

As they descended the steps, Leliana paused. In the half-light filtering through the trapdoor, she could see a few cages scattered around, some on their side, most battered and broken. They were heading into the dungeons.

She wasn't even aware she had stopped moving until Jaiden turned back, waving a hand in front of her face.

"Leliana? Are you alright?"

She pulled herself together and gave the elf a tight smile.

"Yes. Sorry. Woolgathering."

"Hm." Jaiden's expression was searching, and Leliana felt horribly trapped for a moment, but Sten tapped the Warden on the shoulder.

"If you are to insist on us engaging in this unnecessary escapade, could we be about it quickly?" Jaiden stepped away and Leliana breathed out the breath she had not been aware she was holding. _Pull yourself together, woman._

A low growl on the other side of the door indicated more walking corpses and fear was pushed away in favour of focus. Already an arrow was nocked on her bow, and they moved through the door at a half-crouch. The corridor was too narrow for Jaiden to do her usual trick of fading into the background, so she and Alistair stood together and bellowed.

The monsters turned away from the cell they had been attempting to breach and quickly moved in an attempt to flank the new opponents, but it was too late. Jaiden was already vaulting over their heads, her dagger swiftly severing the spinal cord of the first, twisting as it crumpled and crouching quickly to hamstring the second. Alistair's sword swiftly finished the job. As the third loomed over the elf, Leliana let the first arrow fly, twinned by an arcane bolt from Morrigan's staff; the corpse crumpled to the ground before it could so much as raise its weapon.

"Hello? Is anyone alive out there?" No sooner had the final one fallen did a terrified voice rise from the cell the corpses had been attacking. A man sat huddled within, clad in tatters barely recognisable as mage robes. He was splattered with blood and Leliana felt her heart twist for him as she recognised the signs of deprivation and torture. She was careful to stand back, however; over-eagerness to help the mage could result in awkward questioning from the rest of the group.

Especially as the man introduced himself as Jowan and explained that he was behind the arl's poisoning.

Alistair started forward, his hand on his sword, but Jaiden lifted a hand and held him back with just a light press. She did not take her eyes off Jowan, however, and proceeded to question him relentlessly.

Leliana shifted from foot to foot. The man was obviously terrified, and desperate to repent, and even when he admitted that he was a blood mage all the chantry training of the last two years could not silence her inner sympathy with the man. Alistair was disgusted, and Morrigan, once again, actually stood up for the person in the cage. Leliana was of the opinion that seeing somebody in any sort of restraint chafed at the Wilder Witch; it was an extension of the woman's fear of ever being so trapped herself.

Actual empathy seemed to be beyond Morrigan.

There was a pause, and Leliana realised that Jaiden was looking to her for an opinion as well. "The Chantry forbids blood magic….but he seems earnest in his desire to set things right. Doesn't everyone deserve a chance at redemption?"

"Like yourself, you mean?"

Leliana's practiced dissemblance crumbled at the witch's casual comment. Both women in the group were watching her now, and she realised with no small horror that her silence had stretched long enough to answer the question for her. She didn't know how Morrigan had read her so well but now it was too late. Fortunately, Jaiden evidently decided that this was something she would pursue later; her attention returned to Jowan.

"I'm letting you out."

The mage gawped; he had obviously not been expecting mercy. "And then what?"

"You follow us, at a distance, and try to fix what you have done. If I even slightly suspect that you are going to attempt to betray us, it will take a matter of seconds to kill you."

At times Jaiden appeared to put on a front, covering her youth and inexperience with a tough exterior designed to intimidate. _If they won't follow you, make them fear you._ The words rose unbidden in Leliana's brain, a fragment from a book on war she had read a long time ago. Back when she had the leisure time to read on such things. It made the elf nearly unrecognisable, as her laughing expression closed off; leaving behind only the angry and injured parts of her that had lived through Ostagar and whatever had happened to her at the alienage.

That subject had been chewing at Leliana's thoughts whenever she had time since the previous night. The way Jaiden had so calmly stated that the murders had been necessary had chilled the bard's blood. Jaiden was learning to enjoy combat, that much was true, and although she occasionally let out a terrifying whoop during battle there was none of the fear-driven screaming Alistair had described while recounting the fight in the Tower of Ishal.

Nonetheless, Jaiden seemed eager to avoid bloodshed when she could, preferring to sneak around threats or intimidate them into leaving. As far as Alistair had guessed, Jaiden had not actually killed prior to the day she was recruited into the Wardens. So what in the Maker's name could have motivated her to do so?

It didn't bear much thinking about, but Leliana could not help picking at the thought like a scab. She knew if the question were ever answered than Jaiden would truly trust her; but the fear of what that answer might be kept her from pressing the issue.

Not that she'd had the time, yet.

It took Jaiden a matter of seconds to pick the lock and then slide back the bolts on the cell door. Jowan fell back, trailing them as they began to make their way through the rest of the castle.

**O**

"Jaiden."

The elven Warden lifted her eyes from the fire, but did not quite meet Alistair's. "Yes?"

"Are you…alright?"

Jaiden looked away again, and Alistair felt a small pang of pity. What the demon had done to her kith had been abhorrent, and if Connor recovered he should probably count himself lucky that Jaiden had not run him through there and then.

Seeing Jaiden so quiet disturbed the ex-templar. She had her odd serious moments, when she was brooding about the task ahead, but for the most part she had been affable. Since the battle the previous night, however, she had barely strung two words together, and by all rights she should have gone to bed as soon as they set camp. She had insisted on taking watch, however, and Alistair had sat a distance away, observing how her head sometimes dropped with fatigue before she forced herself upright again.

She had not slept outside since the nightmares had begun in earnest, perhaps not wanting to impose on her companions. Since she had started using the tent, however, Alistair sometimes stood outside, wishing he had the courage to go in and wake her up from the nightmares; hearing her moan through the canvas was heart-breaking. He was surprised to find himself comforted by the fact that he had occasionally emerged to find Leliana doing the same thing. For whatever reason, they both wanted to keep Jaiden safe from the worst the Blight could offer, even if she was proving capable of handling herself.

Alistair sat down next to her.

"So... Er..."

_Sorry my cousin wanted to cut your ears off?_

He doubted that would go over well.

Jaiden was looking at him expectantly now; one eyebrow rose as she waited for him to collect his thoughts.

"Erm. Listen…about Connor…well…" Inspiration struck. "Thank you."

Both eyebrows were up now. Jaiden had not expected that.

"I know we might not get to the Circle in time. But I want to thank you for making the effort. To have the arl wake only to find his wife or son dead…you're going out of your way to help, and you didn't need too. I honestly thought we were going to have to slay Connor."

The faintest traces of a smile touched Jaiden's face.

"So did I. You have no idea how relieved I was when Jowan came forward, even if his idea was little better. At least Isolde was willing to give up her life. Connor would have had no say in it."

"Oh, I think I can imagine." His felt himself beginning to relax. Jaiden still looked exhausted but the tension that had dogged her all day was beginning to fade and she blinked slowly, looking as though she was going to nod off.

"As can I." Leliana had emerged from her tent and was walking over to them.

"Can't sleep either?" Alistair looked up at the redhead, smiling. He was relieved to have another chantry-follower in the party; Jaiden's agnosticism and Morrigan's outright blasphemy was somewhat wearing at times, and Alistair doubted that he wanted to hear Sten's views on religion.

And perhaps he was also biased by the fact that she was very attractive.

Leliana settled down on the other side of Jaiden, reaching forward to stir the embers of the fire. "It's been a long couple of days. I would have thought we would all sleep like logs."

"I've never known a log to snore like Alistair, though." Jaiden's weariness had not abated, but with a friend at each shoulder the elf seemed to regain herself a little. She stretched, wincing as bones popped. "Ugh. Feels like we've been through hell and out the other side."

"I think we have, at that." Alistair's smile tightened a little, but the burden did not sag his shoulders yet; he was too relieved to see Jaiden acting normally. "Darkspawn, undead and demons. If the Grand Cleric could see me now she'd either be very proud or grab me by the ear and shake until I fell to the floor, begging for mercy."

"Such tough love in the Chantry," Jaiden commented sardonically. "No wonder I never really took to it."

"You are not a follower of the Maker, then?" Leliana had thus far avoided broaching the subject of belief with either of them, but it seemed to Alistair a safe enough time to do so. Jaiden spread her fingers on her knees.

"I believe in him – her – it – whatever, well enough, although I'm a little more sceptical about Andraste. It's just hard to believe, sometimes, growing up in the alienage. Some turn to the Chantry and pray with all their hearts, hoping their lives are penance to be paid before heading for paradise. Others-" Jaiden did not need to mention that she was amongst them – "believe the Chantry has been corrupted over the years, preaching more the words of the men in power than the actual Chant of the Maker."

Alistair could not help feeling the same. Leliana, on the other hand, looked irritated.

"So you believe all those who dedicate their lives to the Maker are simply mindless cattle?"

"I never said that." Jaiden's body language became defensive, and Alistair peered over her head to see the same set to the bard's shoulders. "It's just – the Maker is supposed to have love for everyone. And yet, I lose count of the times some brother or sister spurned me, assuming I was going to lift their purses simply because I was an elf."

"And did you?" Alistair could not help butting in, but Jaiden did not look annoyed.

"Of course. Why disappoint them? But they were always so judgemental, so sure they were better than anybody else. Even the other humans. They want to follow the Maker's example, but they were always so _proud_. It annoyed me."

To Alistair's surprise, Leliana did not protest this. In fact, she looked amused.

"I…could agree with you there," she said, slowly. "I have my own theories on the Maker; that he reveals himself in the beauty of this world. The others in the Lothering chantry mocked me, and claimed my vision was the result of pride, even as they argued over who was the most humble. I was bitter about it. They did not believe that the Maker could have enough love for everyone; no time for the beggars and the sick, the weary and the fools."

Jaiden smiled. "I think I prefer your ideas to those of the Chantry."

"While I can hear the Cleric yelling in my ear to correct you," Alistair laughed, "I have to say, I do as well. I knew a fair few sanctimonious types when I was in the monastery. Being templars didn't help a few of them; they were downright arrogant."

"Some of the Denerim Chantry used to pull away from elves, whenever we walked past," Jaiden said. "As though we would dirty their robes, just by being near." She pulled a coin out of her pocket and began to move it dexterously between her fingers, the silver flashing briefly in the firelight before disappearing. She reached forward, behind Leliana's ear, producing the money from there. "I used to like messing with their heads." She smirked. "One actually tried to accuse me of being a mage, if you can believe that. The templars laughed themselves silly."

The coin vanished back into the pouch.

"Well, I apologise for my former brethren, if that means anything to you."

"Don't apologise for them, Leliana. And while I may not believe, I need you both to give me a smack upside the head if you catch me ever trying to take an easy option that will harm innocent people, alright?"

They both nodded, and Jaiden stood. "I need to rest now. Alistair, can you start waking camp about an hour before dawn? I want to try and start walking as soon as we have enough light to see by." Alistair saluted.

"Of course, oh glorious leader. Ow!" Jaiden gave his ear a gentle pinch.

"Goodnight." She cast a glance between Leliana and Alistair, and the templar flushed as he realised that she had read his admiring gaze at the bard correctly. Jaiden said nothing, but grinned in an infuriating fashion before ducking into her tent.

"Yes. Well. Um." He rubbed the back of his head as Leliana looked at him quizzically. After a few more mangled syllables she laughed.

"Would you like to hear a story?"

Relieved for the excuse, Alistair nodded.

"I will be your rapt audience, m'lady."

**O**

**I think that's about the least subtle set-up for unnecessary drama later on that I've ever written. Nonetheless, it's something I could see happening if you could control the companions in conversation. And yes, the fic is still going to be Jaiden/Leliana, I'm just trying to avoid shoehorning in the moments between them. **


	7. Trapped In The Fade

"Rise and shine, Ser Tabris!"

Jaiden blinked. She was in a large, soft bed, cocooned in warmth. Stirring up the fire and chirruping merrily at her was a maid, face slightly smeared with ash. Confusion circled in Jaiden's mind for a moment, before her thoughts settled. Of course, this was Rachel, the Weisshaupt maid who had been tending to her every need since she had arrived.

The Warden sat up and stretched, grunting in satisfaction. The sunlight was filtering in through the high window and she rubbed her eyes a moment. The phantom pain of aching muscles and cuts passed over her body, but was gone as suddenly as it came.

"Morning, Rachel. Any reason for the dawn chorus?" Her words were not sharp, but amused, and she laughed as the maid stood and waved a blackened finger in her face.

"It is past noon, you lazy elf," the woman said without heat. "And Duncan wanted to see you as soon as you had a moment."

"Can't we put off that moment, just for a bit?" Her hands reached out for Rachel, but the maid pulled away.

"I am filthy, Ser," she said primly. This only lasted a second before a wicked grin curved her lips. "But once I have bathed, I think I can find some time to keep you busy for a bit longer."

"Excellent." Jaiden pulled her down for a quick kiss, disregarding the sooty fingerprints left on her furs. Strange; she and Rachel had been together several times, and yet the kiss felt like the first intimate contact she'd had in months. "And for the love of the Maker, stop calling me Ser Tabris. It makes me sound like a hulking ox."

"As you wish, m'lady."

"Jaiden."

"Jaiden, then." Without warning Rachel threw back the blankets and Jaiden hissed at the rush of cold air. "Now, get up! It's not urgent, but you can't disrespect your superiors. I've been putting him off all day!"

"Fine, fine." Yawning, Jaiden got out of bed and stumbled towards the pile of leather armour. It was beautifully crafted, made from the thickest possible hide while not hindering her ease of movement, tooled by Dalish elves who had added embellishments of winding silver vines. She did not bother trying to scrape her hair back; she doubted Duncan had called her for anything formal, or Rachel would have been far more anxious.

Jaiden strolled out of her room. The white stone of the corridors seemed to glow in the sunlight, and the windows opened out onto a spectacular vista of mountains. She'd been here a long time, and still the view took her breath away. Flowers placed in vases periodically down the hall released a wonderfully intense scent, and the walls were hung with ornate tapestries that would have taken years to create.

She couldn't recall ever being anywhere more beautiful, or feeling so rested.

As she walked towards the main hall, other Wardens passed by, hailing her cheerfully. Most were Weisshaupt Wardens, who seemed very removed from anything that happened outside the great stone walls of their home, but a few were from Orlais and a couple from Ferelden.

_I thought there weren't any other Ferelden Wardens apart from me and Alistair…_

Why would she think that? There was Duncan, for a start.

The large wooden doors of the hall stood open, revealing the long tables where the Wardens ate, rising up to the dais at the end where the Commanders sat during meetings. The ceiling was high and vaulted, with ornate paintings running across it; a thousand griffins, soaring through a blue sky, each carrying a warrior on its back.

_Sten would like that._

_Who's Sten?_

An image of white braids slipped through her mind, but dissipated before she could make any sense of it.

_I think I need something to eat. _

She smiled as she caught sight of Duncan on the dais. He was sitting, listening to a minstrel playing a Rivani tune on a wooden flute. His eyes were closed. Jaiden was a little surprised; she had never seen the Commander so relaxed. The tension that had furrowed his brow the last time she had seen him had lifted, and he looked years younger. As she approached, Duncan's eyes opened and he lifted a hand in greeting. Beside him on the table was a pitcher and two goblets, and he leaned forward to pour her a drink.

"Good morning, Jaiden." The brown eyes twinkled with amusement. "Or good afternoon, rather. I hope my request for your presence did not distract you from anything…important?"

Jaiden's skin prickled with embarrassment; not much escaped Duncan, and it would have been foolish to assume that he had not noticed her dalliances with Rachel.

"No, I'm not busy at the moment." She sat beside him and took the goblet. The liquid was mead, a sweet honey wine she had only had on a handful of occasions. "Mm. This is sublime."

"It's specially imported from Orlais. I believe it is one of their best years."

Jaiden could well believe it. The strong, sweet taste was a world away from the cloying bottles passed furtively around the alienage, stolen from the back of a merchant's wagon as he argued with the guards at the gates of Denerim. She had not tasted it again until they had stopped for supplies along the road to Redcliffe. Leliana had insisted, and she had got quite drunk, much to the amusement of her companions.

Jaiden shook her head firmly. More nonsense. Aftermath of a dream, perhaps? She took a deep draught, although she knew that it would not exactly aid in clearing her head.

"Anyway, I asked you to come for a reason. I just wanted to make sure you were happy here at Weisshaupt. You've been here for some time, haven't you?"

"Around a year, I think." The answer fell out of Jaiden's lips without going through her brain, and it caught her off guard. A whole year? "And yes. It's one of the most beautiful places I've ever been."

"I can imagine that it is something of a step up from your beginnings in the alienage." The minstrel finished their tune and began a soft folk song. "Ah, this is one of my favourites. There was so little time for music throughout my life; I enjoy having the leisure of simply sitting back and listening."

Jaiden nodded, but felt slightly knocked off-kilter again.

"When will I get to go back out again? Don't think me ungrateful, the year has been wonderful, but I got so used to travelling; I like being on the road, and there are still darkspawn to defeat."

Duncan looked at her with concern, and the minstrel faltered mid-note.

"Jaiden, are you feeling quite all right? You know the darkspawn are gone."

"They – are?"

"Yes." Jaiden felt a sickening lurch. This was definitely not right. "You were there at the last great battle." Duncan smiled upwards, his eyes following the griffin flight across the ceiling. "It was a triumph for all of us, chasing them back into the Deep Roads and setting the underground lairs ablaze."

"But what will the Wardens do now?"

"We will be the keepers of history." Duncan's gaze had returned to her and he watched her warily, answering her questions in a tone that suggested she should already know this. "We shall tell tales and sing songs of a more tumultuous time, that others may rejoice in knowing that time is past."

Jaiden frowned. She had not known Duncan very long, but she had heard enough to be suspicious of the idea of him being idle. "The Duncan I know would not rest upon his laurels."

The Warden-Commander sat back in his chair, folding his hands over his stomach. His expression was now benevolent and amused, like a father watching his daughter playing at being an adult. "What I was before was a man forged in the fires of war. Fighting was all I knew for most of my life, and I learned to hold that life lightly; how easily it could be plucked away was nothing I dwelt on." He took a sip of mead. "I am different now, at peace. I have learned to be tranquil."

There were a great many choice words Jaiden could apply to Duncan, but she knew that 'tranquil' would never be one of them. Even if the darkspawn were wiped out, he would remain vigilant, bound by the same oath she had taken. She met the Commander's eyes and felt a jolt. There was expression there but it was still somehow flat, like a beautifully-rendered painting; a thin layer of illusion.

Hesitantly, hating herself for saying it, she spoke. "I…I don't think you're Duncan."

A ripple passed through the air, and Duncan actually glared at her. She shrunk under his gaze.

"Foolish child. I have given you so much and you cast it back in my face. Can you not be content with the peace I offer?"

It was no longer Duncan speaking, but something behind him, operating the Warden like a marionette. The voice had taken on an echo with which Jaiden felt suddenly familiar.

_The demon at Redcliffe. Connor. Circle Tower. Sloth demon…_

The memories came pouring back as the false ones began to fade, and Jaiden felt a strong pang as those of Rachel disappeared. She looked Duncan in the eye. "You offer complacency, not peace."

The hall shimmered as Duncan stood, now fully armed and armoured, and drawing his sword. "It seems only death with satisfy you. So be it. Have your war and your darkspawn – may it be your doom!"

With that, he lunged.

Remembering how easily the man had slipped through Ser Jory's guard, Jaiden backpedalled hurriedly, but she needn't have worried. This false Duncan could not touch the real one for skill, and her blades slammed into his chest before she could really register what was happening. More Wardens were coming, armed to the teeth, but easily defeated; it was as though they had only the vaguest idea of what fighting actually entailed, and even before she had joined the Wardens Jaiden would have seen the wide gaps in their guards.

Reality began to shift; the beautiful ceiling faded away and the walls started to crumble until she could see out to a vast, greenish space with strange shapes that floated through the sky. As the last Warden fell, the illusion was destroyed. Her memories of Weisshaupt, the friends she had made, the journey, the quests…Rachel…fell away, and new faces and places came in their stead.

Jaiden had no idea where she was. There was a sense of vast emptiness, and she vaguely remembered a conversation she had had with a mage some years back about dreams.

_Is this…the Fade?_

A shimmering light caught her attention, and at the end of the hall a gleaming silver basin appeared. It was filled with something that glowed bright blue.

Jaiden looked around. She was standing on an island decorated with a few tumbling walls that had been used to create the illusion of Weisshaupt. There was no way she could see to travel to the other islands she could see floating alongside hers.

She was mind-numbingly scared.

_Inhale. Exhale. Relax. Think. _

Duncan's voice drifted through her mind. He had drilled her on this, and after a few seconds she stopped shivering.

The glowing substance seemed to call to her. She had no idea what it was or what it would do, but it was an avenue of action, and if it could get her out of here she would risk it. Jaiden strolled up to it, took a deep breath, and plunged her hand in.

**O**

The smell of incense hung heavily in the air, mixing with the scent of clove pomander and oranges from the people moving to and fro in the main section of the Chantry. Leliana made her way to a side chapel, gently running a hand along the smooth stone of a column. It was a reassuring feeling. She was safe, inside strong walls that had never failed to protect her, amongst those who had shown nothing but kindness and a grace bestowed by the Maker. The Revered Mother was waiting, and she smiled beatifically.

No words were exchanged. Leliana knelt and clasped her hands together, allowing her mind to clear before being filled with the words of the chant. The hard floor hurt her knees a little, and her back was sore from being bent forwards in supplication, but such things were not a concern. The Mother stood by with the benevolent look of a true mother watching her child whisper thanks to the Maker before bedtime. She had a chance to repent for all she did, and gladly accepted the peace that filled her heart.

Time passed. She was still kneeling as footsteps entered the chapel, accompanied by a soft clanking that told her the intruder wore armour. Bile rose in her throat at the sound, some dreadful memory trying to force itself on her before clearing. Had she not been in the Chantry all her life? She kept her head down and continued to recite, while whoever had walked in stood there, watching.

"Leliana." Out of politeness, she lifted her head to acknowledge the speaker, and was surprised to see an armoured elf standing before her. What was more surprising was the look of relief in her eyes. "What are you doing?"

"Who are you?" Leliana asked, nervous. The elf's smile dropped, a worried expression crossing her face. Before she could respond, the Revered Mother put a hand on her shoulder, speaking firmly.

"Please, do not disturb the girl's meditations. She is trying to find peace." To Leliana's shock the elf rudely pushed the Mother back a couple of steps, fire flaring in her eyes. The Revered Mother did not lose her composure, although she looked annoyed.

"Revered Mother," Leliana said nervously, "I do not know this person." There was something about the elf that made her extremely uncomfortable, as though her very existence was a violation of what should be. The fury in her eyes did not help this impression.

"You know full well who I am. The Fade is playing tricks with your mind," the elf said shortly, gesturing around her at the Chantry walls. _The Fade? The dreamer's realm? What is she talking about?_

"I-I'm sorry…I don't…" Leliana felt a surge of annoyance. Who did this woman think she was, barging into the Chantry, into her prayer time, and calling her delusional! Fortunately, the Revered Mother stepped in before any sinful thoughts of violence could cross her mind.

"Please, do not vex her. She needs quiet and solitude, to calm her mind and heal her heart." Leliana relaxed as the Mother's soothing voice washed over her. This instantly became panic as the elf stepped straight towards her, grabbing her by the arms and shaking her.

"Leliana, listen to me, please! This isn't real!"

"I don't understand…" Everything still looked solid, and the pressure of the woman's fingers on her arms was strong enough, but her outburst had seemed to make everything…shimmer, for want of a better word. Her mind was revolting against something she could not comprehend, and she attempted to push Jaiden away.

…_How do I know her name?_

The elf did not let go.

"Don't you remember why you left the cloister?" Leliana was about to say that she had lived in the chantry all her life, when something pushed into her head. It sat at odds with what she thought she remembered, and despite herself visions of a swirling darkness and a rose came into her head.

"I remember…there was a sign…" The Revered Mother looked furious, far more so than Leliana recalled ever having seen her. Even that time as a child, when she had…_wait, no, I didn't know her then…or did I? What?_

Leliana wanted nothing more for Jaiden to go away. She was disturbing her now, disrupting what she thought she knew, and she didn't want to think about whatever it was nagging at her. The Revered Mother spoke to her, gently, although she kept shooting poisonous glances at the elf. "Leliana, we have discussed this…sign of yours. The Maker does not care to interfere in the affairs of mortals. This 'vision' was likely the work of demons."

"She would know about demons," Jaiden snarled, finally releasing her grip on Leliana's arms. "Being one herself."

The Revered Mother struck her.

"How dare you! How dare you compare me to those vile things!" The noise of the slap rang through the Chantry, as Jaiden was thrown against the opposite wall by the force of the blow. As she smacked into the stone, a burst of certainty filled Leliana's mind. However grievous the insult, there was no way the Mother could have the strength to do that. She turned on the woman, whose features were beginning to look a little blurred.

"The Maker cares for us. I believe He misses his wayward children as much as we miss Him. My vision may not be from Him, but it urges me to do what is right." With a sickening sensation building in her gut, Leliana slowly took her bow from her back. _I'm armoured…and armed…this isn't right…_ "The Revered Mother knew this. I don't know who you are, but you are not her." She went over to where the elf was lying on the floor, rubbing her jaw and wincing, and helped her to her feet.

"She's a demon in disguise," Jaiden said as she fell into a battle stance. "Here to deceive you. She won't let you go easily." The walls of the chantry appeared to be melting, and Leliana knew she had to leave, quickly. Her brain felt full of fog, and suddenly the only thing that looked real was the elf before her, who was holding out a hand and smiling.

"Let's go," Leliana said, slowly. "My head has not yet cleared, but there is something familiar about you and I...I think I can trust you." The Revered Mother's voice turned her head again, and in the voice was temptation itself.

"This is your home, your refuge. Stay and know peace." Jaiden's stance was still aggressive, but Leliana did not want to fight…whatever this thing was that wore her saviour's face. She was still not entirely convinced that the elf herself wasn't a demon, but something had changed. Everything around her felt like danger now, and the frightening sensation that had radiated from the elf on her arrival had gone. Jaiden suddenly seemed to be the safest thing in the world. Leliana patted the Revered Mother on the shoulder.

"There is no need. I carry the peace of the Chantry in my heart." The Mother's hand came up and caught her wrist in a painfully strong grip. Leliana could suddenly tell how the elderly woman had managed to send Jaiden flying.

"You are going nowhere, girl," the Mother said, and her voice sounded strange, suddenly, as though there were two people speaking at once. "I will not permit it." Leliana tugged uselessly against the grasp, and Jaiden drew her sword.

"You are not the Revered Mother," she said, holding up the weapon. Leliana cast around for the templars, the chantry-goers, anybody who had been outside, but the world outside their small chapel had become fuzzy and indistinct, clouded with bile-coloured atmosphere. "So begone."

"No," the Revered Mother laughed. "She is ours, now and forever!" Leliana's fingernails scrabbled at the woman's hand, watching in horror as the familiar features melted and grew, and then she was looking into the grinning face of something more horrible than her mind could comprehend, and it was hurting her, determined not to let her go – any moment now her wrist would snap, the thing would take her mind, leave her body as an empty shell on the floor of…wherever they had been…

Jaiden let out a sound that could be described by no other term than a roar. It was nearly impossible to conceive the petite-bodied elf being able to make such a noise.

"LET GO OF HER!"

She lunged forward, bringing her weapon down on the demon's arms.

The thing screeched and flailed, dropping Leliana to the floor, where she could only watch as Jaiden attacked without mercy. Her memories were coming back in a dizzying rush, and she felt sick as some were restored that she had never wanted to think of again. Every mistake, every callous thing she had done, all the pain, the misery, the betrayal…

The demon gave a final shriek as Jaiden plunged both her weapons into it and tore outwards, ripping it to shreds that vanished into the heavy, shifting air of the Fade. The Chantry had completely gone now; there were a few scrubs about, and above were the fragments of the Black City. There was a clatter as the swords were dropped on the ground, and then Jaiden was in front of her, holding her hands and pressing her forehead against Leliana's, forcing her to look up.

"Leliana. Look at me."

"She – she was a…"

"That was not your Revered Mother, Leliana," Jaiden said steadily. "That was just a demon."

"I know…I know." Leliana struggled to get hold of her thoughts. "The real Revered Mother probably…died…at Lothering…"

She hadn't realised she was crying until Jaiden pulled her into an embrace, rocking her and making gentle noises of comfort. "Ssh, sssh. It's okay. It's all right."

"My head feels heavy – as though I've just woken from a terrible nightmare." Leliana eventually managed to push words through the block in her throat. She forced herself to stand up, despite the sudden desire to simply fall asleep in Jaiden's arms. There was something important that needed to be done, and she tried to pull herself together; as she turned towards the elf, however, white light started to pour out of the cracks in her armour. She looked up in fright at Jaiden, who grabbed for her wrists. Her hands passed straight through.

"What's happening to me?" The bard could not suppress the hysterical edge in her voice as her limbs started to go translucent.

Jaiden said something that Leliana could not hear. The skies of the Fade swirled and enveloped her.

And then there was nothing.

**O**

"Attack!"

Alistair's nephews flung themselves at him, giggling, swatting at his legs with the cheap wooden swords he had nailed together for them. Thomas managed to scramble up the warrior's back and get on his shoulders, beating his uncle about the head – although not too hard. Samuel attached himself around Alistair's leg and he deliberately staggered, pretending they had felled him.

"My nefarious schemes foiled! It cannot be!"

"Finish the tyrant king!" Thomas whacked Alistair hard on the shoulder and the warrior feigned death for a moment. "Uncle? Uncle Alistair, are you all right?"

He lunged upwards, grabbing a squealing Samuel under the arms and tossing him in the air. "Aha! You can never defeat me!"

"Incoming!" With her usual disregard for the circumstances, his niece Alicia leapt into view and threw a stone at his head. It clipped him sharply on the temple.

"Ow!" Alicia flung her hands over her mouth, horrified.

"I'm sorry!"

Alistair put his fingertips to his forehead; they came away slightly stained with red, but it wasn't serious. "As though a stone could take me down," he boasted, trying to calm the girl before she burst into tears. "See?" He wiped the blood away. "No damage done."

"You won't tell Mummy, will you?"

"Of course not. I'll just say clumsy Uncle Alistair tripped and bashed his face against the door again, all right?" Alicia nodded, rubbing her eyes. "Although I'll say, you've got a good aim. We'll make a great archer of you yet."

"What about me?" Thomas asked, offended.

"Well, you-" he lifted Thomas onto his left shoulder – "will be a mighty warrior, famed for your noble spirit and valiant deeds. And you-" here he lifted Samuel onto the right, "will be a dashing rogue, with a quick blade and faster tongue, and very popular with the girls."

"Yuck! Girls are icky!" Samuel had not yet hit puberty, and it showed.

"Hey, some girls aren't. My companion Jaiden was a brilliant rogue _and_ a woman." He looked over at Alicia. "A role model for you, perhaps?"

"I want to meet her someday!" Alistair laughed. Ever since he had first mentioned Jaiden, Alicia had hung on his every word about the elf, constantly badgering him with questions.

"And you will. She's travelling at the moment, although she has promised me she'll visit the next time she's in Denerim."

"Alistair!" Goldanna's voice rang out as she pushed through the door. "Please put the boys down before you drop them!"

"Better do as your mother says, or she'll cuff me." Alistair lowered a protesting Thomas and Samuel, smiling at his sister. She feigned a glare, but burst out laughing as Alistair caught another stone in the back of the head. Alicia grinned sheepishly at him.

"It looks like my daughter is doing a fine job on her own of reprimanding you. Anyway, it's almost time for dinner; round up the little monsters in the next five minutes, all right?"

"Sure thing, Goldanna." The sun was beginning to set anyway, and Denerim, for all it was supposedly the 'jewel in Ferelden's crown', was definitely no place to be out at night unless you were doing something shady.

He was just starting to herd his protesting niece and nephews into the house when he heard somebody calling his name. Alistair turned to see a very familiar form jogging through the marketplace, heading for him. A grin spread over his face and he spread his arms.

"Jaiden!" Before the elf could say anything he had picked her off the floor in a hug. "It's so good to see you!"

"You as well, Alistair." For some reason, Jaiden looked cautious, and as he put her down she cast around, frowning. "Are you all right?"

"Never better," he said, not put off by her wary attitude. "I was just talking to my niece about you, isn't that a crazy coincidence?" He turned his head and called out. "Alicia! Somebody's arrived I think you'd love to meet!"

The little girl came barrelling back out the door, stopping dead and staring up in awe at the elven Warden. After a few moments she stepped behind Alistair, peering around him shyly. He'd told so many tales about Jaiden he supposed that she was something of a legendary figure to his niece.

"Alistair, what's taking so-" Goldanna came back out of the house, wielding a spoon, but stopped at the sight of Jaiden. "Oh, hello. Are you one of Alistair's friends?"

"It's Jaiden!" Alicia said breathlessly. Samuel and Thomas had now come out and were circling around the elf, admiring her armour.

"Ah! The hero of Ferelden, I've heard so much about you." Goldanna held out a hand to Jaiden.

Jaiden simply stared at it and after an awkward moment Goldanna lowered her hand.

"Er. Well, this is my sister, you remember me mentioning her, right?" Alistair was now beginning to worry about his companion. She was oddly quiet and tense, and he wondered if something had gone horribly wrong on her last mission and she had bad news. _Hopefully nothing's happened to the others._

He gestured to the children.

"These are my nephews and niece." The children waved awkwardly, and Thomas drew himself up and gave Jaiden a formal bow. Alistair ruffled his hair. "We're one big happy family, at long last."

"You seem very…content."

"I am." Even as he said it Alistair knew he had never been more so. "I don't recall ever being this happy in my life, isn't that strange?" He held up his hands. "Not that I didn't enjoy my time on the road, but this is…I thought being a Grey Warden would make me happy, and it did for a while after I left the Chantry. But it didn't last long. This-" he gestured to his family. "-this makes me happy."

"You have no idea how overjoyed I was to find I had a little brother." Goldanna smiled, reaching up to pat Alistair on the head. "All those years I thought he was dead – well, I'm never letting him out of my sight again."

"That might prove a problem." Jaiden's voice was so low that Alistair was pretty sure he was the only one who could hear her. She kept her tone polite, however, as she raised her voice. "Do you mind if I borrow him for a bit? We have work that needs to be done."

Alistair pulled her away, ignoring the elf's outraged expression.

"I – I don't think I'll be coming." Oh, now _that_ expression was outraged. "I don't want to spend my life fighting, only to end up dead in a pit with rotting darkspawn corpses."

"Up until a few minutes ago, I would have said the same." A shadow crossed Jaiden's face, but Alistair could read nothing into her expression. "But we both took an oath, and right now we're all Ferelden has."

Alistair was about to retort, when Goldanna came up alongside them.

"Well? Is your friend going to stay for dinner?"

Hopefully a full stomach and a change of clothes would make the elf somewhat less sour. Alistair would have assumed she would be delighted to meet his family, but she was glaring at Goldanna. _Is she jealous of what I have now?_

Jaiden had never struck him as the type, but who knew?

"Stay you'll stay! Goldanna's a great cook. Maybe she'll make her mince pie." He shot a hopeful look over his shoulder, and Goldanna laughed.

"Of course, dear brother. Why deny our famous guest?"

"I can't stay," Jaiden said abruptly. She turned her eyes on Alistair. "And neither should you."

"You're acting really strangely." Alistair felt somewhat offended. He'd told so many stories of Jaiden's fun-loving nature that he felt bad for Goldanna's children, seeing this surly woman who didn't even acknowledge them.

"Do me a favour, Alistair." Jaiden's light eyes were intense, and the ex-templar felt uncomfortable. "Think, and tell me, how you got here. What happened to make you leave the group to find your sister without us, and shirk your duties as Warden."

"Fine, fine! If it'll make you happy."

Alistair opened his mouth to start speaking about his decision, but nothing came. No memories or explanation for how he had ended up in Denerim without so much as a by-your-leave. He frowned.

"It's…a bit fuzzy. That's weird."

"Alistair, come and have some tea." Goldanna was tugging at his arm now, her eyes concerned. He pulled away unthinking, trying to concentrate as images slipped through his mind.

"No, wait…I remember a…tower…" The sounds of the market had faded away and suddenly all Alistair could hear was his own voice. It was very, very quiet. "The Circle…it was under attack. There were demons. That's all I remember." Something shifted.

Jaiden breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness. And then we got trapped in the Fade." She gestured around, the sweeping sensation of her arm leaving sluggish trails in the air. "Where we are now."

Alistair's first instinct was to block his ears. He really did not want to hear this.

"This is…a dream? But it's so real…"

"Of course it's real." Goldanna's tones were soothing, and all Alistair wanted to do was turn his back on his friend and follow his sister in for supper. "Now wash up before tea and I-"

"Something doesn't feel quite right here." Despite his best efforts to ignore it, the world was beginning to morph, and Alistair stepped away. Alicia, Samuel and Thomas stared up at him, and Alicia tugged at his armour. Her pleading eyes almost swayed him, but he forced himself not to be sucked in. "I think I need to go."

"NO!" Alistair leapt in fright as a horrific growl issued from Goldanna's throat. "He is ours, and we'd rather see him dead than free!"

Before his horrified eyes the home he had loved collapsed into the ground and his niece and nephews changed, growing and decaying grotesquely into armoured skeletons. Jaiden drew her sword and before he could protest she reached out, slashing the thing that had once been Alicia's throat. An overwhelming sensation of grief crushed his chest.

Jaiden made swift work of the rest of his kin. Afterwards, she looked at him sorrowfully.

"I'm so sorry I had to do that to you."

Goldanna's form lay on the ground for a moment, her neck sliced wide open, before melting into the floor. The Denerim market was now completely gone, and he stood in a barren patch of land, dotted with broken stonework and rough scrubs.

"I don't believe it." Already Thomas, Samuel, and Alicia were fading from his mind, becoming dreams instead of memories. He bit back tears. "How did I not see this earlier?"

"The demon trapped us all in worlds it thought we would enjoy – so we wouldn't try to escape." Alistair looked down and realised that Jaiden seemed mournful as well.

"What – what was in your dream?" The elf looked away.

"I'll tell you later. Maybe."

"All right." He winced. "And if you could try not to tell the others how easily I was fooled?"

"It's a promise, Alistair. I was fooled as well."

Jaiden began to fade away, and when Alistair tried to look at his hands he couldn't see his own body any more.

"Where are you going? What's happening?"

There was no answer before oblivion claimed him.

**O**

Jaiden breathed heavily. All through the islands of the Fade, she had worked out the tricks and forms she needed to fight the demons, and was collecting her friends from their dreams. She felt like a voyeur, and hated herself for waking them up; would it be kinder to let them all die?

But it didn't matter what she felt. She needed them. And so she went through, releasing everybody, trying to harden herself against their images of peace. Wynne, the woman she had only known for a few hours, was the easiest for her to release morally, but the most difficult to persuade. When the dead apprentices rose about around her Jaiden felt her heart wrench for the mage. To think herself responsible for their deaths only to release she had been sanctifying demons…

At long last she had them all. And with a wearied groan, knowing that this was far from the end of it, Jaiden sank her hand into the font one last time, allowing it to carry her to the Sloth Demon.

**O**

**I doubted that just a fortress would keep Jaiden happy, so I threw in some extras as an incentive. I hope I portrayed the character's experience of their dreams realistically enough. And because it keeps me happy and writing, if you enjoy this story, please leave a review, however brief.**


	8. By The Lake

**I own nothing but Jaiden (and even her just about tangibly). **

**O**

Greigor shut his eyes, wishing he was anywhere else in Thedas.

The screaming from the upper echelons of the tower had ceased, meaning that one way or another, everything was done with. Irving was surely either dead or an abomination, and the Wardens had probably suffered the same fate. The thing had had taken over Uldred was powerful, and the Knight-Commander shuddered to imagine what any of that party could do with the power of a demon behind them.

There was a loud hammering at the massive metal doors that barred the way to the rest of the tower, and the templars shifted into position. Greigor kept his hand up, ready to give the signal to fire.

"Commander! It's me! It's over!"

Greigor started as he recognised Cullen's voice. Had the boy managed to free himself from the blood mages and fight his way down the tower alone? Or was he, too, another thrall of the pride demon? Fighting against his instincts, he motioned for the doors to be opened, and held his breath as he waited for a slew of abominations to rush out.

Instead, in marched Jaiden, flanked by Alistair and First Enchanter Irving.

Greigor felt a rush of relief at the sight of his antagonist that he would never had thought possible. All the members of the party that had ventured into the tower had returned, and a few more mages – amongst them several children, which gladdened the templar's heart – straggled behind. The Warden had been as good as her word, it seemed, and had saved them all.

They had been in the tower for two days, and yet the Warden seemed none the worse for the feats of endurance she had surely undergone in that time. In fact, she stood taller. She was splattered with blood and had a raw scrape across one cheekbone that was topped off with a vivid black eye, but that was all.

Some of his best templars had fallen that day and this petite elven woman and her companions had wiped out a horde of monsters.

Her words when they had met indicated that Jaiden had little to no knowledge of the arcane, however, and she was not unaffected mentally by whatever she had experienced since he had shut the doors behind them. Before they had entered the tower, she had brushed aside his concerns regarding her inexperience with a casualness that had been infuriating. Greigor could read people well enough to tell the different between bravado and arrogance, arrogance and confidence. She had been a little cocky, although polite.

Now she walked slowly, letting the First Enchanter lean on her shoulder, and there was a distracted look in her eyes that Greigor knew well. He had seen it on the face of every young templar who had experienced their first abomination – a soul-deep mark. Her companions looked fairly shaken as well, but it was in Jaiden there was the most visible change.

Greigor looked over at Cullen, who had a wild look that was very similar to the signs of lyrium deprivation. His eyes darted from the First Enchanter to the dark-haired apostate, to Wynne, and then to him, before demanding that they all be killed.

The Commander sighed. Cullen had obviously been unhinged by the work of the blood mages, and would likely never be the same again. _Poor boy._

"I take it you will no longer be requiring the aid of the templars." He turned to Jaiden, who had been talking to Wynne as they came through the door.

She smiled thinly. It was very unlike the cheeky grin she had given him when declaring her intent to save as many of the mages as she could.

"I guess we don't, at that."

"I thank you. We may have a reputation for being a little too eager to put an errant mage to the sword, but I would never willingly put any of my men to carrying out the Rite. As I gather, it can be a scarring experience." He looked over at Irving, smiling as he realised just how worried he had been about his counterpart. "I cannot really express the depth of my relief."

Jaiden bowed and then turned to the First Enchanter. Greigor took the opportunity to properly study the group she travelled with.

He itched to have the apostate taken into custody immediately, but knew that Jaiden would not let him. If their group had fought their way to the top of the tower and taken on Uldred, then the smattering of templars down here would stand no chance against them. She seemed to know what he was thinking; her yellow eyes studied him and there was an expression of mirth on her face that made Greigor clench his fists. When they had arrived, Carroll had kept his distance from the woman, occasionally shooting terrified glances at her. What she had said to scare him so was anybody's guess, but Greigor did not want to find out.

The presence of the ex-templar chafed at him as well. He had no doubt that the boy had shared chantry secrets with his companions, and given the presence of the yellow-eyed woman Greigor dreaded to think what could be done with the information so casually given away.

The qunari actually seemed the most reassuring member of the group. He had spoken of how his people restrained mages and while Greigor's initial response was to speak out against this barbarism, he could not help but silently agree. Not that he would ever mention it in front of Irving, of course. A Loyalist the First Enchanter might be, but Greigor did not doubt the man would rip his throat out if he so much as bought it up.

Another reassuring factor was the red-headed Orlesian. Greigor could see why she would be useful to the group, and there was a keen intelligence in her eyes that could perhaps guide the others well. The Sword of Mercy pendent around her neck was a very welcome sight.

She was shifting from foot to foot, looking anxiously at their leader. Jaiden occasionally turned to her companions while talking to Irving, inviting their opinions, but she looked away swiftly from the bard. In fact, the Warden seemed uncomfortable at making eye contact with any of them, but her in particular.

_What happened in there?_

"Greigor." Irving's voice snapped him out of his reverie. "The Warden has asked for our assistance in exorcising a possessed child in Redcliffe. Could you spare some templars as escorts for the group I will send?"

"I will try. I need to check the condition of my men first. I could have a contingent ready for you by tomorrow, perhaps."

Jaiden looked worried. "'Perhaps' is a big risk. We have no idea how long the demon will remain dormant."

"I'm afraid it's the best I can do." Greigor did not fault the woman's anxiety; Redcliffe had no templars of its own to deal with such a threat. "But those who are here desperately need rest; they have been on guard since the tower fell."

"And I would suggest that you rest as well," Irving adjoined. "You've been fighting continuously for hours, as well as having the demon leech off you. And you-" he pointed a bony finger at the Warden – "should not be able to stand right now. I don't know how you managed to navigate the Fade, but you should not have been capable of it without training."

Jaiden didn't even appear to be all that fatigued. Greigor looked at her with surprise. Could she have been a mage they had missed?

No. He could sense no mana in her.

_Then how…?_

Irving was pressing some coins into the Warden's hand. "Here. This will buy you rooms at the Spoiled Princess, and some supplies for the journey tomorrow. A token of thanks for everything you have done here."

Jaiden thanked him, and as one the group disappeared out through the doors towards the lake.

Irving stared after them, stroking his beard in thought.

"Irving…?"

"Sorry, Greigor." The man came back to himself. "I should ask how you've been coping down here."

"Well enough. Doubtless it was nothing compared to your ordeal."

"Or hers."

"Yes." He paused. "You said something about her being in the Fade?"

"It's fascinating. They fell under the thrall of a sloth demon."

Greigor frowned. "How did they get out? Did Wynne help them escape?" Irving smiled.

"Apparently, the Warden broke free of her own illusion, mastered the various tricks she needed to travel through the Fade, defeated a slew of lesser demons guarding the one that ensnared them, rescued all her companions and then they beat the Sloth demon. And this was all before they got through to Uldred."

Greigor couldn't help it. His mouth dropped open.

"How could she-?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, old friend," Irving said. "I'd love to question her at length, but she has a task to do." He sighed. "Apparently she was using what she described as 'spiky blue branches' in the Fade to help keep her strong throughout the ordeal."

"Spiky blue-" Greigor stared. "Lyrium?"

"Fascinating, isn't it? She had no concept of what it was. But it was there in the Fade, and she used it to replenish her health and keep away fatigue. There were apparently a few items dotted about that imbued her with temporary abilities while she was there as well. I would guess that is why she looked considerably less haggard than her companions."

"But – demons create these illusions from a person's memories. How could it have included lyrium?" Irving shrugged.

"Perhaps something a little more benevolent was giving her a helping hand."

Greigor's hand pressed itself over the Sword etched on his breastplate.

"Perhaps that. There are benevolent spirits in the Fade as well; but after the miracle of surviving I'm willing to accept any explanation for it."

"So they were all trapped there?"

"Yes. The demon apparently kept each of them in their own illusion, separate from one another."

"So when Jaiden rescued them…"

"Ah, I thought her attitude would not escape you." Irving picked at his fingernails. "Yes; she went into their dream space. What she saw there was likely more than her companions were willing to share up until this point. It seems to have affected her badly."

Greigor's mind instantly went to the apostate; what horrors could the demon had created from her imagination?

However, he recalled the uneasiness with which the archer had watched Jaiden and knew it was her about whom the Warden was most unsettled.

"If you will excuse me." Irving's voice broke into his thoughts once more. "There is much to be done; the tower is clear of abominations but I think I need to sleep before we begin to clean up, don't you?"

"Rest then." Greigor looked over at his opposite. "Irving…it is good to see you well."

"Ah, I'm sure we'll be back at each other's throats in no time."

With that, Irving went to lie down on a bench. Greigor turned his head back to the doors, his mind still thick with questions.

**O**

"Have you seen Jaiden?"

Wynne looked up from her drink to see Leliana, looking uncomfortable. As soon as they had got to the Princess, Jaiden had paid for the rooms and then disappeared back outside.

The elder mage was not certain what to make of the elf. She had been calming and optimistic at the start of their trek up the tower, and even though she had looked a little green around the gills at the horrible fleshy mess growing out of the walls in the upper tiers, she had lead them with confidence and practiced ease, although from the amount of times she had looked back to Sten to check if she was getting it right, she was not a seasoned warrior.

_Well, she will be in time._

There had been an expression of extreme guilt on her face when they had awoken from the sloth demon's domain, and she had turned away quickly to claim the Litany of Adralla. She had been amiable towards Irving, cracking a few jokes as she supported him down the tower to set the Enchanter's mind at ease, but she barely spoke to the rest of them.

"Not since she left." She gestured through the window. The moon was full tonight, bathing the tower and lake with a beautiful glow that belied the horrors that had occurred over the last few days. On the edge of the lake was a hunched shape, silhouetted against the water. "I think that's her. Although I'd approach with caution."

"I don't understand…" Leliana looked hurt. "Why is she avoiding us?"

"I'd hazard a guess that she feels bad for intruding into the most personal recesses of our minds," Wynne said, "even though not doing so would have condemned us all to die. I was grateful when she released me. Tell me…how did you feel when you realised it was an illusion?"

The woman paused, and Wynne was struck by how young the expression of worry made her look.

Boy was currently curled around Wynne's feet, enjoying the fire, but with one ear pricked towards the door in case his mistress returned.

"I…was upset. But it didn't last long." Leliana knelt beside Boy, absently scratching his head. "What the demon presented was tempting, but not so tempting as staying alive. I am thankful to her."

"Best to tell her that, then."

Leliana nodded, but did not move.

"I will." A faint smile touched her lips. "I am glad you decided to join us, Wynne."

"The Circle would not have survived were it not for all of you. And neither would I." She cupped her hands around the tankard, feeling the warmth seep through her fingers. "But it wasn't out of obligation. The Blight threatens everyone, and even if the tower had been secure I would have begged Jaiden to allow me to join you."

"I have to say, it is also nice to have our wounds properly healed for once," Leliana murmured, after glancing around to check that Morrigan had not wandered in unnoticed. "Morrigan does her best, but she specialises in poisons and destruction." They had all suffered burns and gashes during the draining battle up the tower, and Jaiden had suffered a broken hand when an abomination had slammed her onto the floor. Wynne's abilities had knit the bone almost immediately, and she had felt a flush of pride when the elf thanked her. She was useful, and that was enough to be thankful for in a woman her age.

"It was no problem. I specialised in restoration from an early age. It is second nature, now."

"It must be so wonderful." Wynne knew at this point that Leliana was striking up conversation in an effort to avoid having to speak to Jaiden, but she let the woman be for the moment. "To be able to weave spells, I mean."

Wynne raised an eyebrow. "Wonderful? To you, perhaps. Many people do not see it the same way."

Leliana made a swatting motion. "They are just jealous. It is a Maker-given gift, and you should use it, as long as it is not to defy His works. I wish I had such talent."

"Your skills as archer are most impressive." Wynne had been amazed by the sheer speed and accuracy with which Leliana could fell enemies; arrows left her bow quicker than a heartbeat, and she had not missed once in the Tower. "Is that not a talent? And Jaiden mentioned that you trained as bard." The elder mage knew full well the tales of Orlesian bards; it would be easy not to trust the redhead, but she seemed so utterly guileless that Wynne was knocked off-guard. "The ability to sing and weave an enrapturing tale is a gift of its own."

"I suppose."

Leliana also moved with a deadly silent grace that Wynne associated with assassins in the night, but she did not mention this. Jaiden could also be very quiet, but Leliana had seemed to actually _glide_ from place to place, not even the rattle of armour giving her away. It had probably taken her a great many years to learn.

"Now, I am an old woman and I need my sleep. It has been a long day." Leliana smiled up at her.

"Are you off to bed then? Sleep well."

"I will. And you should be out there." She pointed out of the window towards Jaiden. "Or you will not rest easy tonight. I have gone to bed angry, confused or upset too many times, and I know it is always better to clear the air beforehand."

Leliana's smile dropped. "But I don't…"

Wynne shot her a look that had made every one of her apprentices quail, and it had no less affect on the Orlesian. She shrank back.

"I do not know you or any of your companions properly, yet," Wynne said. "But from what I have seen of Jaiden, she is stubborn, and I doubt she will come back in until somebody fetches her. And I think you are the only one for that task right now."

Alistair was asleep with his head on the table, one hand still loosely curled around his tankard. Sten sat glowering in a corner slowly working his way through a massive bowl of stew, and Morrigan was very unlikely to offer comfort willingly.

"But what about you?"

"Child, she doesn't know me from Maferath. Anything I say will be platitudes to her ears. And besides, it would seem to be you she was most uncomfortable around." The bard winced. "I suggest you go soothe her fears."

Leliana opened her mouth to protest, shut it again, and stood, ignoring Boy's whine as her hand left his ears.

"Very well." She turned on her heel and left the inn, her face set in grim determination.

Wynne sat back in the chair. The thrill of adventure was in her veins, but damped by her currently aching joints, and she had a strong suspicion that if she let them play on her sympathies she would end up as nursemaid to the Wardens and their companions.

The idea did not annoy her as much as it could have.

**O**

Leliana clenched her fists as she walked over to Jaiden. She had absolutely no idea what she was going to say, so she bought her feet down hard enough to make noise, allowing the elf to sense her approach. Hopefully, Jaiden would speak first.

The Warden did not look around and Leliana sat beside her, staring out at the lake. Jaiden was picking up stones and skidding them along the water, her thoughts obviously somewhere else.

What was she supposed to do? Ever since they had woken from the Fade, Jaiden had kept her distance, throwing herself into the task of saving the rest of the Tower. The only time the Warden had even acknowledged her since it happened was when they had stumbled across Cullen; her comment on the templar's suffering was a dropped hint about her past, and Jaiden had noticed, but not yet spoken of it directly.

They sat together in silence for a time. Leliana picked up a stone for herself and was silently competing with the oblivious elf. After a while, the quiet got to her, and she tried to speak.

"Jaiden-"

"You can leave, if you want."

Leliana's heart plummeted. This was not Jaiden telling her to go back to the inn; but to leave the party altogether. "W-what? Why? Did I do something wrong?" Jaiden gave a bitter laugh.

"No. No, but I think I have. I shouldn't have let you come along."

Leliana could feel a wall of pain building in her chest, and a lump growing in her throat, but she would not run. She caught Jaiden's shoulder and shook it.

"I would have followed you regardless. Why are you saying this now?"

"You don't want to be here." Jaiden turned her head and Leliana was startled by the guilt behind the Warden's eyes. "You were happy in the Chantry. You had peace. Instead you felt obliged by…something…to join us, to leave what gave you peace, and go into war, never knowing from one day to the next if you would live. If you hadn't come, the demon wouldn't have trapped you, and you would not have needed to see me strike down somebody you trusted. You were so immersed in the illusion that you were the only one who did not know me."

Leliana reached out and pulled Jaiden to her. Her own misery had ebbed in the face of Jaiden's guilt, and she began to understand why the Warden had been avoiding her.

"I was content, in the Chantry. Not happy. I was sealed off from the world, so I did not have to deal with the pain. It is not how life should be lived. In the three weeks I have travelled with you, I have felt more alive than in two years."

"But you shouldn't have to do this." Jaiden pulled away. "Not only dealing with the Blight, and the possibility of becoming infected, but the civil war, and Loghain, and abominations, and being lead by somebody who doesn't have the first idea how on earth they're going to defeat the archdemon, and- "

"Just tell me this, Jaiden," Leliana said firmly. "And answer me honestly; don't think about me for the minute. Do you want me to go?"

There was a nerve-wracking pause before the elf mumbled. "No."

A wave of relief washed over Leliana. "Good, because I'm not leaving. What the demon offered me was tempting, and I was upset when the illusion was shattered. But it was an illusion that would have killed me. And the Chantry would have done the same. By allowing me to join you, you actually saved my life; I would have died in Lothering otherwise, of that I have no doubt."

Jaiden exhaled slowly.

"Thank you."

Leliana studied Jaiden's face. The Warden seemed more willing to meet her eyes now, and Leliana was struck by how the moonlight seemed to actually make the pale green irises glow. She was beautiful, if slightly roughened by the life she had lead. Her scar was just a white line now, and Leliana knew it would never truly fade.

However, there was still some worry in those eyes.

"What's troubling you?"

"In the Fade…"

Leliana had wondered if it was too personal a question to ask, but now seemed as good a time as any.

"What did the demon tempt you with?"

"Weisshaupt." Leliana was surprised. She was not expecting that.

"The Grey Warden fortress?"

"It's strange. If somebody was to ask me what I would expect to see in such an illusion, I would have said the alienage, only tidied up a bit, during a celebration. My father, my cousins, the elder, my friends, all gathered around, and not having to think about the Wardens at all." Jaiden shifted away again. "Instead; the Blight was over; the Wardens were keepers of history. Duncan was there. I was…so happy…"

Jaiden swallowed.

"There was a woman – Rachel – in my dream. We were…intimate. I had love, safety, and beauty all around me. It wasn't until Duncan started acting…well, not like Duncan, that I realised what was happening and broke free, and that wasn't really until he attacked me."

Leliana wondered if Rachel had been taken from a memory or was a creation of the demon's. She fought the urge to ask if Jaiden usually liked women and focused on the part that was obviously upsetting the elf.

"He attacked you?"

"Yes, but that wasn't the worst part." Jaiden curled up, resting her forehead on her knees. "Before I killed him, he said only war and death would satisfy me. What if he was right? Am I as bad as…" her voice cut off sharply. "…am I a monster?"

"No." Leliana made her voice firm. "You fight the monsters. You could become one but I believe you will not, because you are a good soul and you have gone out of your way to help others, beyond all logical limits. You live a life of war right now, but the demon offered you its own vision of peace, and it was not Duncan who spoke to you. It was the demon themselves, angered at its failure to keep you trapped, and so it lashed out."

An odd sound came from Jaiden, and it took Leliana a second to realise that it was a quavering laugh.

"Funny…I just remembered…"

"What?" Jaiden was twisting the silver ring on her left hand.

"After what happened at the alienage…I was terrified of myself. I've never been much of a one for following the rules but what happened that day was horrific, and I thought I was as bad as the men I had killed. Duncan reassured me that I wasn't, but I don't think he truly convinced me." She smiled at Leliana. "Thank you. I think I believe it now."

She picked up another stone before Leliana could attempt to ask her about the events at the alienage again. "Here. Bet I get mine further than yours."

It was a blatant ploy at changing the subject, and Leliana let it be. She was so relieved that Jaiden was not going to send her away, or had been angry with her. She stood, scooping up a handful of flat pebbles.

"Says the elf who uses blades to the ranged fighter. You're on." She flicked her wrist expertly; the first pebble bounced off the water six times before sinking.

They remained up for another hour, talking and competing, before finally returning to the inn. As they entered, Leliana looked up to see Wynne leaning out of the window, giving her an encouraging smile.

**O**


	9. An Assassin, A Dance, and Confusion

**Another long-ish one for you! The song Leliana sings is from the Scottish poem 'Charlie Is My Darling', by good ol' Rabbie Burns. In terms of the beat, I'm thinking specifically of the cover done by Eddi Reader, which makes it somewhat less austere than its usual performances :) Obviously I've edited it a bit as it wouldn't make sense for Orlesian Leliana to use Scottish terminology. I own nothing but Jaiden.**

**O**

Morrigan pressed her thumbs to her temples, attempting to block the growing headache that came when she had drained her mana to dangerous levels. It had been far too long a day, and this final encounter had taken to her to the dregs. It was not without gratification that she noticed how exhausted Wynne looked as well, but the elder mage kept her attention focused on the matters at hand.

An elf, bound hand and foot, was on the ground in front of Jaiden, sporting a number of bruises and cuts, as well as a particularly vicious burn from a fire flask the Warden had dropped early on in the scuffle. Despite this, his hazel eyes roved their group without much apparent concern, and he answered their leader's questions in an infuriatingly relaxed tone of voice. He had been an Antivan Crow, although having failed to kill the Wardens meant he had now forfeited that title.

Jaiden was getting stronger. They had been on the road to Denerim for two weeks, and in that times they had encountered wolves, tainted spiders, bears, bandits, mercenaries, bounty hunters, the occasional scouting group of darkspawn and now a bona fide assassin. The elf's skill with her blades was improving markedly, courtesy of the battles and her nightly training with Sten, and now that she had adjusted to the weight of her armour she was proving very agile; once she had taken down the elf she had leapt from burning caravan to tree to ledge and slashed a mage's throat open in remarkably quick succession.

Seeing her squaring off against the trained Antivan had been both heart-stopping and enjoyable; they had a very similar style and fought closely, droplets of poison from the Crow's daggers flying in all directions. The air had been a blur of silvered blades and they had circled each other and clashed with the grace of dancers. Eventually Jaiden had been lucky, managing to drive the assassin into a grease trap and then knock him senseless.

"Let me be plain." His accent was lilting, quite pleasant to listen to, but while he didn't exactly leer, Morrigan could not help but feel uncomfortable with how he was looking at Jaiden. "My life is forfeit as I have failed to kill you. The Crows will be a little annoyed that I have failed, and I no longer pose a threat to you; I have no personal vendetta against the Wardens. Let me serve you."

Jaiden looked at him in outright disbelief.

"You must think I'm royally stupid." The elf, who had introduced himself as Zevran, smirked.

"I think you're royally tough to kill. And utterly gorgeous." He shrugged, as much as he could with his wrists bound. "Not that I think you'll respond to simple flattery…"

The assassin was obviously less of an idiot than Morrigan had first taken him for.

"…but there's nothing wrong with serving the whims of a deadly sex goddess."

Or perhaps not.

She felt her heart sink as she looked over at their leader and recognised the way she stood; head cocked slightly to the side, eyes appraising, arms crossed. She had been in exactly the same pose when she had recruited Sten and Leliana.

"Why would I want you along?"

"Because I am skilled at many things, from fighting to stealth and picking locks. I could also warn you should the Crows attempt something more…sophisticated now that my attempts have failed."

"I have skilled fighters, and people who can pick whatever lock I throw at them." Jaiden's eyes flicked across to Leliana, and Zevran followed her look, his expression showing obvious approval. Leliana gave him a flat stare. Honestly, Morrigan was surprised that the bard had not started speaking on his behalf yet; perhaps her former life had taught her to be wary of the Crows.

The chantry wench had slipped up twice, now; once pleading Jowan's case in the dungeons of Redcliffe, and once attempting to help the templar Cullen in the upper levels of the Circle. It was enough to glean that she had lived a colourful life that she now regretted, and seemed to project that desire for redemption onto every sob story she met. The sympathy in her voice as she spoke of Cullen's torture suggested that she had suffered the same, not been the perpetrator – although that would have been a delicious confession to extract from her at a later date.

Infuriatingly, both these events seemed to have passed unmarked by their leader.

"I could also stand around and look pretty if you prefer." The assassin was still bargaining for his life, although the quality of his arguments seemed to have deteriorated sharply in the last few seconds. "Fend off unwanted suitors?" His voice dropped. "Warm your bed?" His attention was fully on Jaiden again, and his expression was not so much leering as – appreciative.

Jaiden burst out laughing.

"And is this before or after you stab me in the back?"

The assassin chuckled. "Tsk, the things you say. They must drive the men at home simply wild." But then, he was all business. It occurred to Morrigan that at no point in the exchange had he actually pleaded; he simply offered up reasons to spare his life, as businesslike as any trader proposing a deal. She doubted he actually expected mercy; was simply trying for it. "So what will it be? I can even shine armour. You won't find a better deal."

"Well, we as much help as we can get right now." She looked warily back at Alistair, but Morrigan knew the decision had already been made. "Very well. I accept your offer." She did not need to threaten him with violence if he reneged on the deal.

"WHAT?" Morrigan grimaced. That the templar's shriek was predictable did not take the edge off the noise. "You're taking the assassin with us now?"

"What benefit would he get from trying to murder us now?" Jaiden contested. "He won't be paid, and would probably just be killed if he went back to the Crows now."

"So he says," Alistair muttered. "You know he doesn't have to report he failed, right? All he has to do is slip some poison in our food and boom! Job done. Nobody would be any the wiser."

"Except that I would be returning without my compatriots." Zevran nodded towards the bloodied, charred and frozen remains of his fellows. "My contact would want them accounted for; mercenaries are more easily replaced than assassins, but nobody would believe me such a good fighter that they all died and I finished slaughtering you all."

"It's feasible," Wynne murmured. "All you would have needed to say is that it was a hard battle."

"But I do not wish to. I was never given much a choice in joining the Crows. I was bought when I was young, and raised to know nothing but murder. Perhaps this is a sign, no?"

_Now _Leliana spoke up.

"I believe it is a good idea." She gave Alistair a sharp look. "And Jaiden has already made her decision, has she not?"

"Unless you wish to reassert your status as senior Grey Warden," Morrigan said, "And take over as leader, perhaps you should pertain to her wishes." Jaiden raised an eyebrow in her direction and smiled. "Although I also think this is a foolish venture, just so you know."

"So noted." Morrigan ground her teeth at the amusement in the elf's voice. Would she never take her opinions seriously?

"Anyway." Jaiden looked around. "Here seems as good a place as any to camp for the night. Sten and Alistair, take care of the bodies. See if you can find any valuables." Sten gave a curt nod, and Alistair groaned. "We'll set the tents."

"Why is it I always get the smelliest jobs?" Alistair grumbled.

"It could be worse," Jaiden smirked. "I could have told Boy to go with you."

Morrigan wrinkled her nose at the happily panting mabari. Her initial assessment of the beast as a domesticated lap-dog would appear to have been false, as Boy obeyed orders and appeared to have an intellect that at least rivalled Alistair's. That did not help the fact that the hound _reeked_. He chuffed and pushed his head under Jaiden's hand, tongue lolling in delight as she scratched behind his ears.

The men headed off to dispose of the bodies; save Zevran, who Jaiden quite wisely appeared to be keeping an eye on. He set about building a fire in the centre of the clearing from planking broken from the ruins of the wagons. As Morrigan went to set up her tent, however, Jaiden followed, looking slightly shifty.

"Yes? Have you another infernally irritating set of questions for me?" Morrigan glared. Jaiden's persistent attempts at befriending her in the Wilds and Lothering had died away after she had rebuffed the elf every time, although she had strained to keep herself civil; truly, she had expected to be driven away as soon as they were in shouting distance of the Imperial Highway. For whatever reason, Jaiden tolerated her despite her icy demeanour, but she no longer came to sit by her fire and badger her with questions.

"As it happens, no." Jaiden looked into the middle distance, looking a little awkward, but smiling. "I have a gift for you."

"A…gift?" Morrigan stared, before composing herself. The elf had to want something – perhaps ask her to leave Alistair alone in trade for something she thought would appeal to the witch. Morrigan was tempted to sneer, but reminded herself that she should not actively alienate their leader, who was likely the only thing keeping their entire group together. Nonetheless, she could not keep the suspicious tone out of her voice. "What do you wish of me?"

Jaiden seemed surprised. "Nothing. I just…" she dug in her pack. "This is technically yours, anyway." She produced a large tome with a cracked black cover. The pages were yellowed with age, and when Jaiden held it out Morrigan could see a design of a withered tree etched on the front. Her heart leapt into her throat.

"This is…" It was! "This is Flemeth's Grimoire!" She looked up, hugging the book to her chest without thinking. "Where did you find it?"

"In the First Enchanter's study." Jaiden shuffled. "I'm sorry I didn't give it to you before. You and Wynne were arguing when I picked it up, and we were attacked again before I could hand it over. After that I forgot I had it."

Morrigan was almost dizzy with delight. What an opportunity, to simply land in her lap! She did not attempt to hide how happy she was about it, and Jaiden grinned, rubbing her nose awkwardly. "I thank you. I will begin studying this at once!"

"Yes, well. Let me know if you find anything interesting." Apparently at a loss for anything else to say, Jaiden walked back to the main area of the camp.

This was curious. How could the elf have known this was Flemeth's? The Circle Tower had proven that Jaiden's knowledge of the arcane was somewhat limited, and she had no hope of transcribing the runic text within. This question was quickly answered by a note that had been slipped in the front cover, declaring the tome to be dangerous goods retrieved while scouting in the Wilds. Well, Jaiden didn't have to be a genius to assume this had once been Flemeth's.

But why give it to her? Why take it in the first place? She had asked for nothing in return. Morrigan's confused frown was quickly wiped away as she set aside the grimoire and began constructing her shelter. Whatever the elf's reasons, she had handed Morrigan a key to secrets that Flemeth had never wished her to know. The thrill of anticipation flooded her veins and she ran a hand over the cover lovingly, unaware that she was smiling.

**O**

Leliana settled outside her tent, pulling the arrows from her quiver and holding each one level with her face, eyeing them critically. For some the wood had warped, or been cracked, and these she set aside to strip down later. Others still held a straight line, but the fletching was damaged, and she put these in another pile before retrieving some feathers from her pack and beginning to trim them down to the correct size. It was a task that required concentration and as she focused her misgivings about their newest companions faded to the back of her mind. She was so engrossed she barely noticed Zevran sidling up to her until he sat beside her, leaning his head on a hand as he gave her an appreciative look.

"I must say, it is good to be travelling with a bard. Morrigan seems a spitfire, but the rest of this group is slightly too noble for my tastes."

"You haven't been had your pocket picked by Jaiden yet," Leliana said crisply.

"Ah, so the leader is more than she seems? Delightful." He shot her a glance. "I knew the odd bard operating in Antiva. They stayed away from assassination – we Crows had the handle on that – but they were magnificent at subterfuge and espionage. Although none of them were half so beautiful as you."

Leliana tensed.

"Er…I'm not that sort of bard."

Zevran chuckled. "So you are but a minstrel? I find that hard to believe."

"I thought bards and minstrels were the same." Jaiden had come over, and plonked herself down without grace, looking to Leliana in anticipation of a story.

"To use both terms interchangeably would cause confusion in Orlais, my dear," Zevran said smoothly. "Bards are minstrels and more." He checked himself. "But as an Orlesian herself, perhaps Leliana should have the telling of this."

Leliana nodded; at least she could edit the truth slightly, and tone down the less savoury aspects of what had been required of her as a bard.

"Not _all_ minstrels are spies. Most are simple storytellers and singers. But some, in Orlais, are referred to as bards, and they have a different role. They perform, as well, but their primary function is espionage." She was still cautious, and wary of saying the wrong thing. "Some say there is a bard order, but I don't think this is true. Most work alone, or in small groups."

She suppressed an expression of pain as she remembered what dedicating herself to another had cost her.

"There is a great deal of rivalry amongst the high-born in Orlais. They fight over land, power and the influence of the empress – who must have her own bards, I suppose, to check that nobody has further designs than impressing her. It is considered very impolite to do this in public, so they smile in public as they plot to destroy one another. It is known as 'The Game' and is completely meaningless to anybody but its players."

Zevran was giving her a shrewd look now, but Leliana was not unsettled. If he imagined some kinship between them, so be it, and hopefully he would be smart enough to keep his mouth shut.

She had forgotten, briefly, that Jaiden was sharp in her own way.

"Sounds like you know a lot about these bards." Her voice was deliberately casual, but Leliana saw the knowledge in Jaiden's eyes and she sighed. If their leader had allowed a Crow to join them, then she shouldn't have a problem with a bard. Right?

"And I should, shouldn't I? Having spent most of my adult life as one. You've guessed as much, I'm sure." Jaiden nodded. "Does it really matter what I was? The past is past."

"That explains better how you learned to fight than 'I picked up my skills on the road.'" Jaiden simply sounded amused. "Nobody learns to shoot like that just travelling."

"My bard skills served me well, while I was still part of the Game." Leliana looked upwards, ignoring the memories clouding at the edges of her mind. "But the day finally came when I just decided to put them aside."

"Hmm. But how did you end up living in Lothering – as a cloistered sister, no less?"

"It's certainly not the sort of place I would have thought an Orlesian bard would go." Alistair was approaching them now, and Leliana felt more of the trepidation lift at the amused gleam in his eyes. "Not after the things I've heard."

"So you've come across some racy tales of debauchery as well?" Zevran leaned back in his elbows, giving Alistair an integrating smirk that made the templar glare. "Excellent. Perhaps we could persuade Leliana to give us a demonstration some time."

Both Leliana and Alistair turned bright red. Jaiden looked from one to the other, initially confused, but then grinning.

"I haven't heard any stories about the bards before – but judging by their reactions, I think I'd quite like to hear them some time."

"I would be your minstrel any day, my lady." Zevran was attempting a smouldering gaze now, but was disrupted by his own amusement.

"Oh, please don't…" Alistair sounded disgusted. "I really don't like that mental image."

"Really?" Zevran pulled himself upright, and began whispering into the templar's ear. All Jaiden heard was 'don't you want to see her…' Alistair stood stock still for a few moments, before running out of the camp at full pelt. Zevran looked immensely satisfied with himself.

"I don't want to know, do I?" She asked as he sat down again.

"I rather think one or both of you would strike me for the images I have now put in his head." He smiled cheerfully. "Poor boy won't be able to look either of you in the eye for a while. If I may…" he paused. "I rather think my charms would be completely wasted on you, am I correct?"

Jaiden laughed. "I think that's the most delicate way anybody's put it. And not _completely _wasted."

"Always good to know. Well, allow me to extend an invitation to my tent tonight. I'm sure we can discuss many things in private that would be of great interest to both of us."

"Hmm, tempting." Jaiden smirked. "But I think I'll decline. Forgive me for not leaping into bed with somebody who tried to kill me a few hours ago."

"If you insist on living in the past you will never be able to enjoy the present," Zevran protested, without heat. "And speaking of the past – our lovely lay sister was going to explain how she ended up hundreds of miles from the Orlesian border, was she not?" His eyes turned back to Leliana, who had been a mixture of amused and annoyed at the Crow's flirtations, and she sincerely doubted she wanted to know exactly what he had said to Alistair. Now she mentally cursed him for bringing that up again.

"I…found myself in Ferelden, and got caught in bad weather. The sisters at the Chantry allowed me to shelter there until the storm passed. But when it did, I simply did not want to leave." She tapped her hands against her knees. "My life as bard was hectic, and I rarely had time for contemplation. So when I was in Lothering, I found that rare space, and in amongst the gentle Chants and the welcoming arms of the sisters, I experienced peace." She paused. "I like to say the Maker brought me here."

Jaiden suppressed a sound that was suspiciously similar to a snort, and Leliana felt a spark of irritation. That the elf Warden had no respect for the Chantry itself was one thing, but she shouldn't mock her about her beliefs – even if she was unaware of just how important it was to Leliana. Jaiden seemed to realise this, because she rubbed her nose in embarrassment and apologised.

"That was unfair. I'm sorry." There was an awkward pause, and before Leliana could forgive her the Warden had turned back to Zevran. "I did think you were going to kill me outright," she said. "You're very fast."

"You did well," the Crow responded. "I think I am more skilled than you with blades, however. You were lucky." Jaiden accepted this, although she narrowed her eyes slightly. "If you wish, I can teach you properly; you are used to fighting people close-range, against those skilled with large weapons that you can dodge around, yes?" He pulled out his dagger. "Two dual-blade wielders should be a pleasure to watch, able to anticipate the next move to the point of pre-cognition, and the final blow simply a well-timed step in the dance."

Jaiden rose to her feet, drawing her weapons. Her dagger now had weights tied around it, as she was working to build the strength in her left arm enough to carry a second sword. Zevran clicked his tongue. "Never forget how to use a dagger as well as a longsword," he ordered. "Sometimes, the short length will give you the opportunity to get through your opponent's guard when a sword will not." He, too, rose to his feet, and they withdrew a few yards from the fire. Leliana turned to watch, still cautious at the thought of leaving the assassin and Warden unattended.

Jaiden fell into a standard defensive pose, and Zevran shook his head.

"That's the stance of a shield-carrier." He walked around her, forcing her knees to bend more, relaxing her shoulders. "When up against another with two blades, you must be relaxed, ready to be agile, but firm against the clash of the weapons. You are too tense; you can't move away from a under-handed strike fast enough. Keep your centre of gravity low."

"What does that mean?"

Zevran shifted her feet further apart, placing his hands on her hips as he did so. Leliana glared at him, but he simply shot her an aggravating smirk. "All your balance is here. No matter what pose you are in, if your hips are central, you will not fall over. Even slightly off can cause you to miss a step, opening your guard to the enemy." He stepped away, and aimed a kick at her shin. Jaiden cursed with surprise, but moved back slightly faster than he had struck, taking advantage of his forward motion to bring her dagger around to his throat. Zevran laughed.

"See how easy it is! Remember that stance. Supple yet strong." He moved around, catching her shoulders. "Of course, it won't stand up to a large enemy, but you have Sten to train you for those occasions, no doubt."

Jaiden rolled her shoulders and bounced on the balls of her feet experimentally. "This does feel better."

"And I didn't even bed you," Zevran grinned. He drew his daggers and Leliana pulled an arrow from her quiver, nocking it but leaving the bow on her knees for now. If the Crow had a thought of killing one Warden and then making for the trees, her arrow would be in his throat before he could blink. The red-haired elf raised an eyebrow at her, and Leliana suddenly felt a little foolish. Jaiden was more than capable of defending herself; she shouldn't feel so protective.

It didn't stop her heart leaping into her throat when Zevran lunged, even quicker than he had been in actual combat. Jaiden looked momentarily panicked, her wavering arms leaving wide guards that she barely managed to cover in time, and her opponent almost forced her to her knees. It did not take long for her to enter the right frame of mind, however; a clear coolness that Leliana could not recall seeing on the Warden's face before. She regained her footing and fought back, ferocious but silent, pressing Zevran as he pressed her, the pair circling about each as elegantly and footsure as any noble at an Orlesian ball.

There was even a rhythm to the soft thuds of their feet in the grass and the clash of their blades, and without thinking Leliana set the bow aside and began to drum on her knees, humming in time. She suddenly longed for the lute she had been forced to abandon in her flight from Orlais. The performer in her was rearing its head and she was actually beginning to enjoy this. Her voice grew a little louder.

"That's it!" Zevran called out, and his voice was joyous, his face filled with exhilaration that was quickly matched by Jaiden when she realised what was going on. "Sing for us, bard!"

She needed no prompting.

"_T'was on a Monday morning, early in the year!_

_That Charles came to our town, the young chevalier_

_Oh Charlie is my darling, my darling, my darling,_

_Charlie is my darling the young chevalier!" _

Alistair had returned from the wood, staring baffled between the sparring pair and Leliana laughing as she kept time. To the bard's surprise, however, he grinned after the first few bars, and joined in on the next verse.

"_As he was walking down the street, the city for to view,_

_Oh there he saw a comely girl, at the window peeking through,_

_Charlie is my darling, my darling, my darling,_

_Charlie is my darling, the young chevalier!"_

In the next moment Leliana was hauled to her feet as Alistair, deliberately making a mockery of his own clumsiness, began to swing her around in wide circle as they sang, and Zevran and Jaiden were still clashing, sweat beginning to trickle down their faces, and Leliana felt utterly joyful as she could not remember the last time she had felt this carefree.

When the song came to a close, the elves gratefully dropped their weapons and shook hands, panting. Alistair stepped away and bowed, the pink flush on his cheeks more than the result of exertion. "A pleasure, my lady," he said theatrically, and Leliana could not help a giggle. It quickly died on her lips, however, as she recognised the way he looked at her.

_Oh. Oh dear. _

He broke his gaze with a bashful smile, and turned away.

"I – I'm tired," she announced, feeling another sting of irritation as Zevran kissed Jaiden's hand. Not pausing to see the surprise of her companions at her terseness, she ducked into her tent.

_Maker, what is wrong with me?_ Alistair was charming, albeit in a slightly goofy way, and she could recall a time when a man who looked like him could have made her heart race with just a smile. And yet – there was something in the way, something that made his attraction to her unwelcome. Leliana kneaded her forehead, unable to put her finger on what was wrong.

No answers came, and with an angry noise she started pulling off her armour and setting it out to air. She was not going to sleep well tonight.

**O**

Jaiden crept away from the camp and silently scaled one of the trees, propping herself amongst the branches about half way up – concealed from sight, but able to observe the camp at leisure. Zevran was bugging Morrigan (a brave feat indeed), and apart from Sten the others had retired. The qunari stood on the opposite side of the ring of tents, practising his forms as he was wont to do whenever sleep denied him.

A soft bark from below announced the presence of Boy. He looked up at her, his large square head held to one side, his canine features set in an expression that looked almost quizzical.

The hound had not been far from her side since he had announced her first darkspawn attack on the road to Lothering. It was nothing short of a miracle that he had survived; his flanks were pitted with badly-healed wounds, as well as the neat stitching of the kennelmaster on some older damage. She'd spent part of that first night rubbing poultice into the cuts, much to Morrigan's disapproval at the waste on the 'smelly beast'.

She abandoned her plan of hiding in the trees to brood and vaulted down, curling up at the base of the trunk with Boy curling in front of her. She had never even seen a mabari before Ostagar, and now she could not imagine not having him around; he was a comfort. She put her arms around his broad neck.

"I'm doing the right thing, aren't I?" Sparing Zevran had not sat well with her, and although he had already proven himself to be an amicable sort, that did not grant him freedom from suspicion. Their fight had been wonderful; with Sten, practice was all about form and technique, specifically against larger partners, and Alistair relied so much on his shield bash that she could see the move coming from a mile away, making it easy to defeat him. Leliana's talent for blades only just exceeded her own, and besides, they had never sparred together. The camaraderie of that evening had been a tonic, and for a moment it had been like being back at the alienage during the summer solstice – with more weapons, of course.

Boy expressed his opinion by barking happily and slobbering on her face. "Yeurgh. Thanks for that." She wiped away the drool but did not shift away, absently petting the mabari as she thought.

What had unnerved her the most about Zevran was how well he had read her. They had only been in each other's company three hours before he figured out that she preferred women, and how he had come to that conclusion she had no idea. Perhaps he had seen her talking to Morrigan. Not that she had any love lost for the acerbic witch, but there was no denying that Morrigan was beautiful, and those robes were very distracting at times. She had almost been relieved at the witch's cold demeanour; to have formed an actual attraction to her would have proved awkward for everyone. She could only imagine what Alistair would say had he found out.

As to Leliana…there was something. The wounded look in the bard's eyes when Jaiden had attempted to get her to leave outside the Spoiled Princess had cut her to the quick. It was not the only time Jaiden had doubted Leliana's desire to obey her vision; even Alistair had commented on how sad she frequently looked, when she thought nobody was watching her.

She was gorgeous, and Jaiden suspected that if she allowed it she could very quickly fall for the bard. The thought of that voice purring sweet nothings into her ear made her tense, and she batted her hands against her forehead, attempting to drive the images out. Boy cocked his head at her in curiosity.

"Shut up."

But there was something about Leliana that seemed damaged. It didn't take much to guess that she was dissembling on the subject of her departure from Orlais, and whatever the true reason, it was serious enough that the bard did not trust them with it. Add to that, Jaiden had no idea if Leliana even liked women that way.

The look on her face when she had begun to sing, however; it had been enrapturing, in the brief glimpses Jaiden had got of it when not trying to avoid being accidentally decapitated. She wanted to see that expression again. Leliana had already told her of her mother's flowers, Andraste's Grace – the very same petals Jaiden kept dried in her pack to keep her clothes from smelling too badly after weeks on the road. Perhaps one of them could make the woman's face light up like that again. But how to present it?

She sighed. "I'm being an idiot, Boy. I shouldn't be thinking about this sort of thing, not with the Blight and all." Boy simply gazed at her with large, placid eyes that held a great deal of understanding. Jaiden stood. "Ugh. I need sleep. C'mon, back to camp." She lowered her voice. "I promise not to let Wynne bathe you just yet."

Boy gave an appreciative bark and they strolled back to camp, one of Jaiden's hands remaining placed between her faithful hound's ears.

**O**

**Angst and dancing! Who could wish for more?**


	10. Denerim

**Thank you to everybody who has put me on Story Alert, Faves, and reviewed! Sorry this one took a while – I decided to balance out everything that happens in Denerim into two chapters after several re-writes. This is mostly Alistair's musings.**

**-Genjutsu-Dragon-**

**O**

Alistair's head was throbbing. The noise, the crowds, the stench, the heat of the pressed bodies, they all came together to fasten screws on his temples. There was a male bard obviously unwilling to admit his voice had broken butchering a love ballad on the far side of the marketplace, the traders yelled over each other for the attention of the customers, and there was clanging coming from a smithy that seemed to vibrate through Alistair's brain with every strike.

How had Jaiden grown up with this?

He had watched with amazement at the change that came across his fellow Warden as they walked through the gate. Over the past two days, Jaiden had been getting increasingly twitchy, her nerves at the prospect of simply walking into the city where she had killed several people – not to mention the current residence of the man denouncing the Wardens – getting the better of her. She had been distracted during combat and would have lost an eye if Wynne had not been travelling with them. Alistair could sympathise. He had not been keen on simply walking straight into Denerim either.

And yet, the moment they crossed the threshold, Jaiden relaxed. More than that; she seemed to change. She usually walked with a casual stroll, not dissimilar to his own. Once they were past the guards, however, her steps changed, becoming much more like Leliana or Zevran's customary glide. Her eyes darted around the marketplace, taking in the crowds, and she seemed to become less…_significant_, somehow. Alistair could never overlook their leader, but he guessed that if he did not know her she could pass him by completely unnoticed.

As was doubtless her intention.

It was not Alistair's first visit to Denerim, but the last time had been years ago and he couldn't remember it being this bustling. People chattered in numerous tongues he couldn't even name, and everywhere there were trades being hashed out and argument were taking place. He did remember one thing, however, and he smirked.

"People say you can get anything here. I once got pick-pocketed." Jaiden laughed appreciatively.

"Well, I hope that wasn't me."

Alistair grinned. "In case it was, can I have my twenty silvers back?" She swatted him around the head. "Ow!" Leliana giggled appreciatively behind her fingers and he shot her a look of mock-pain. "Leliana, our leader's beating me up again!"

The bard's response was to give him a light cuff on the ear. "I can see why. It's quite entertaining," she laughed. Wynne rubbed her forehead and groaned.

"You know, in certain circles in Antiva, people would pay handsomely for the united attention of these two women," Zevran commented, smirking.

"Must you reduce everything to lechery?" Morrigan snapped. Alistair looked over and noticed just how uncomfortable – even for the swamp witch – she looked. He felt a faint twinge of sympathy; it couldn't be easy, after a lifetime in the forests and on the open roads, to end up in the most crowded city in Ferelden. Quite probably every one of the woman's senses were shrieking _Get out._

And then he remembered it was Morrigan, who would certainly be mocking him were it the other way around, and he turned his attention back to the marketplace. Jaiden, having finished looking around, began to give instructions.

"All right. The food stalls are over there, and I was always told Wade's was the best place for armour. We should probably sort that first." Jaiden was wearing a mishmash of splintmail and leathers, and that was in desperate need of repair. The others were hardly better off. Zevran's armour was perhaps the best in the group; he cleaned the finely tooled Antivan leathers every night with a reverence Alistair found surprising from the usually obscene elf.

Not that this made the Crow any easier to deal with. Once he had proved to Jaiden that despite his gleaming ornaments he could still vanish at a moment's notice, he had been teaching her some tricks to improve her stealth, and they sparred together frequently. Alistair was of the opinion that Jaiden should have asked Leliana for help. The woman was silent and graceful – and deadly – as a cat.

He shook his head as he realised that the bard had drifted into his thoughts again.

As Jaiden began giving instructions and doling out money for supplies, Alistair's ears picked up the sound of running feet. He tensed automatically, his hand going to his hilt as he realised the source was heading in their direction. The others had noticed, but before anybody could speak an enormous man burst out of the crowd, sweeping Jaiden up into a bear hug. His meaty forearms were so huge they almost obscured her face.

"TABBY!"

Was he a madman? Alistair drew his sword as the 'attacker' began a bumbling in a circle, spinning around so Jaiden's legs swung out.

"Put it away." Wynne's hand was on his arm. "I don't think he means to cause her harm, and we don't want to attract attention."

"He could snap her neck!"

The man overheard, and stopped moving around to get a good look at the group. Alistair was the only one with his sword out, but the others were tensed, ready for a fight. After a few seconds of assessment, he gingerly put a slightly asphyxiated Jaiden down. "Your companions seem a tad twitchy, Tabby."

"Arms down," Jaiden instructed once her eyes had stopped bulging. "This is a friend." The man poked her in the back of the head.

"Sure of that? How come I didn't hear of you being recruited until after you left?" He pulled a sorrowful expression. "After all our years together…"

"As you've probably heard, it was slightly short notice." Jaiden was still smiling, but Alistair had learned to recognise the tense set of her shoulders when anybody approached a conversation topic that made her uncomfortable.

The man evidentially recognised it too. He smiled awkwardly and changed the subject.

"Anyway, you've nothing to fear from me, Tabs. The ones denouncing your lot are nobles, and you know how I feel about them."

"All too well. It's got my ears boxed more than once." There was no malice in Jaiden's voice, and she turned to the rest of the group with a grin. "Everybody, this is Slim Couldry."

"Slim?" Alistair couldn't fault the amusement in Wynne's voice. The man looked as though at some point his lineage had intersected with that of a bear's.

Slim chuckled jovially.

"I know. Been doing a pretty poor job of it, haven't I?" He looked back to Jaiden. "Maker's mercy, you look like you could stand a good feeding and all. I'd offer some myself, but…" he shrugged apologetically. "All the fighting in the Bannorn's affected the trade routes, and there's barely enough coming in to Denerim to keep things running. I'll keep well enough, of course."

Jaiden laughed. "You always did." Slim ruffled Jaiden's hair affectionately, and Alistair thought of a father beaming proudly at his daughter. "Anyway, we're here to find a Brother Genetivi. D'you know where he lives?"

Slim tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I know the man you're talking about, although I haven't seen him around here in weeks. His house is just opposite the Gnawed Noble. If you don't find him or his assistant, you could ask at the Chantry. He's always running off on expeditions for them."

"Thank you."

"No trouble, Tabby." Slim wagged a finger at her. "I fully expect to see you for a pint this evening, you hear?"

Jaiden hugged him. "Definitely." She looked back to the rest of the group. "As long as you don't mind this scruffy bunch tagging along."

Alistair stuck his tongue out at her.

Slim gave Jaiden a final pat on the head and moved away, elbowing his way easily through the crowd and out of sight.

There was a moment's silence, before Alistair asked, badly smothering a smirk.

"_Tabby_?"

Jaiden rolled her eyes. "My surname is Tabris. He thinks it's cute."

"It certainly beats 'knife-ears'", Zevran commented, with no discernable bitterness. "Should we go about our scavenging, then?" He cast a wink at Jaiden, and Alistair realised that the elves were likely going to fortify their supplies with some less-than-legally acquired extras. The thought didn't bother him as much as it once might have.

_Wardens do what is necessary._ He could almost hear Duncan's voice, and he knew he was using those words to assuage his conscience. They had pretty much stolen Sten in Lothering, so what were a few coins compared to an unexplainably homicidal qunari?

"All right. We'll meet at the tavern in about three hours, okay? Easily enough time. Then we'll go on to Genetivi's place." Before Alistair could nod, Jaiden had slipped away, vanishing completely into the crowd.

"I wonder what would have become of her, had she been a Crow," Zevran mused aloud. "She is still inferior to most, but is gaining ground rapidly considering her age."

"Well, she's not," Alistair snapped. "She wouldn't kill people for money."

"No?" Zevran looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Who's to say the events at the arl's estate were not the result of a botched assassination?"

"She'd never-" Alistair was interrupted by Wynne.

"How do you know of that?" Zevran grinned in a manner that Alistair assumed was meant to be irritating.

"As much as I'd like to tell you that we were making mad love and it came up during pillow talk – I simply asked her about her circumstances while we were on watch. She was somewhat evasive, but gave me enough to add to what I had heard when I was picking up the contract to kill you two. Remember, I was in Denerim far more recently than either of you."

"So…what did you hear?"

"No more than she has told you, I suspect. Unfortunately, as consequence of her actions, the alienage was purged. It's locked down now."

"Purged?" Alistair looked around to see that Leliana had gone white. "You mean-"

"Life in the alienages is never easy." Zevran was looking away from them, his eyes scanning the crowd. "My upbringing was no stroll in the street, but at least it was not in one of those fetid ratholes. On the heels of the murders, the town guard was sent in to clear up 'undesirable elements'. There is sickness running rampant and the food shortage that Couldry fellow mentioned has probably hit hard as well. Rioting cannot be far off."

"Jaiden had to know there would be a consequence to her actions," Morrigan stated, her voice setting Alistair's teeth on edge. Jaiden had shown the witch an inexplicable amount of kindness and the woman showed not a jot of empathy in return. "If she expected punishment of her kin to be allayed by her recruitment, she is a fool."

"So…what do we do?" Alistair felt pathetic even as the words came out of his mouth. With Jaiden gone, he should have been in charge, but nothing came to mind but waves of panic at the possible reactions his companion could have at discovering her family had likely been slaughtered. If she ran away, or challenged the guards…

"We have our instructions." For once, Sten's sombre monotone was welcome, settling Alistair's nerves a little. "I intend to carry mine out, and meet at the tavern at the allotted time. I suggest you all do the same."

"Wisely spoken, Sten," Wynne adjoined. "Although I would add we should keep an eye out for Jaiden, and if any of you see her, keep her away from the alienage. I'll talk to her tonight. This will not be a subject easily broken."

Alistair blew out the breath he hadn't realised he was holding. He knew it was selfish, but he couldn't help but be grateful that he would not have to be the one to tell Jaiden. He was awkward enough around women as it was. He still winced with embarrassment at recalling a conversation he'd had with his fellow Warden when going to replenish the water supply a few days previously.

"_Hey, Jaiden."_

"_Yes?" The elf did not lift her eyes from her waterskin, but her ear flicked slightly, a sign that she was paying attention. Alistair rubbed the back of his head, embarrassed._

"_You're female, right?"_

_Now Jaiden looked up, an expression of amusement on her face. "The last time I checked, yes. Did the breasts give it away?"_

_Alistair's face flamed red. Jaiden laughed. "Oh, you poor little templar virgin. Did I get you all hot under the collar?" _

"_I-hey..what?" He spluttered. "I'm not a…I've done…erm…" He gave up. "How did you guess?"_

"_Well, templars take vows, don't they? And you were fresh out of the monastery and straight to the Wardens, where you told me yourself there were no women about." She gave him a sideways glance. "Although I suppose, if you also like men-" _

"_Maker's mercy, no!" A sudden mental image popped into his head that Alistair would happily have set fire to his brain to be rid of._

"_Then you're definitely a virgin," Jaiden said cheerfully. "I've never met a man with experience who turned so red at the word 'breasts'." Alistair covered his face, and then looked up._

"_So, you…" he coughed, his skin prickling. "Have you ever…er…" unable to think of a proper euphemism, he took the first one off the top of his head. "Licked a lamppost in winter?"_

_Jaiden dropped her waterskin in the stream as she bent double laughing._

"_Have I ever WHAT?" _

"_I couldn't think of anything else!"_

_Alistair went shame-faced to retrieve the waterskin while Jaiden recovered, clutching her stomach. _

"_Oh Maker…I haven't laughed that hard in months." She breathed out. "Anyway…yes. A couple of times. Kind of."_

_Alistair, thinking himself unable to be more embarrassed, raised an eyebrow. "And you didn't lose half your tongue in the process?"_

_Jaiden snorted. "I was doing it right, I'll have you know." She took back her waterskin. "Thanks. Anyway, you were questioning my femininity?" _

"_No!" He'd been wrong about the embarrassment. "No, I know you're female! It's just, I – wanted some advice, and I didn't want to ask Zevran-" he took a breath. "What do I do if…I think a woman is special, and-" he trailed off, unsure how to finish his sentence. _

_A look of realisation spread over Jaiden's face, and Alistair remembered that his fellow Warden had already seen his attraction to their Orlesian companion. "…You want to – let her know?" Jaiden finished for him. _

_He nodded. _

"_You might want to start by never asking her if she's a woman," Jaiden said. The humour in her voice seemed to have dissipated, and she appeared slightly…wistful? Was that the word?_

"_Yes, yes, I get it!" _

"_Do you think Leliana doesn't return your feelings?" Alistair winced._

"_Ouch. Blunt."_

"_No point dancing around it, is there? But again-" Alistair cut her off._

"_Why would she?" He smiled ruefully. "Especially when I do things like ask women if they're female."_

_Jaiden's expression remained distant. "Well…you can be a little awkward. But some women like that." _

"_Really?" Alistair attempted to bring her out of her reverie with humour. "Do you?" He placed a hand on his hip and thrust his chest out, pouting. "Does this drive you wild with desire?"_

_It worked; Jaiden laughed again. _

"_Be still my beating heart." Jaiden held both hands to her chest, pretending to swoon. "But you'd be barking up the wrong tree, anyway." _

"_What?"_

"_Oh yes, you were hiding in the forest for that part of the conversation, I think," Jaiden said. "I prefer women." _

_Alistair blinked. "I – wow. I'd never considered that as an option before." _

"_Making you one of the few men in Thedas who hasn't." Jaiden stood up, having finished filling up the skins. "Apparently it's quite a popular fantasy." _

"_I can imagine why." Oh Maker, it was going to take a long time to get those thoughts out of his head. _

"_Advice wise…just be yourself, I guess. If she likes you for who you are, then…great." _

"_Alright." Jaiden turned to head back to camp. "So…if you like women…" She turned to regard him, and this time there was a warning in her eyes to be careful what he said. "Do you think Leliana's pretty?"_

_Jaiden was quiet for so long that Alistair thought she wasn't going to reply._

"_Yes. I think she's very pretty." _

Alistair groaned. A gentle tap on his shoulder brought him back to the present, and he turned to see the subject of their conversation looking at him with sympathy in those large blue eyes.

"She'll come back."

Alistair instantly felt like a worm for worrying more about his prowess with women than their current predicament with Jaiden. "I hope so."

"Have faith." Those words never sounded empty coming from Leliana, and against his judgement he found himself relaxing a little. "Even if she does find out before this evening, Jaiden will come back to us." The bard's expression hardened a little. "At the very least to ask Zevran why he did not tell her before now."

Alistair did not envy the Crow that confrontation.

Leliana bid him a goodbye he barely heard, and headed off with Wynne to get the food supplies. Alistair sighed, looking after her, wondering how on earth he was supposed to even start getting her attention. 'Being himself' basically consisted of blushing and making awkward jokes, and retreating behind Jaiden at the first sign of any decisions that needed to be made.

_That's really going to impress her._

Zevran, Sten and Morrigan had gone off to see to armour, which left him with stocking up on flasks for poultices, various ingredients for Zevran and Jaiden's poisons and repair kits for armour and weapons. Without much idea of where to go, he trundled along until he came to a halt beside a stall just off the main marketplace.

Sitting in pride of place was a lute.

Even completely inexperienced with instruments as he was, Alistair could see that it was beautifully crafted. The back was rosewood, and the tear-drop shaped front was a lightish yellow wood that gleamed softly. The sound hole was covered with a carved leaf design that was very detailed and carefully varnished. Alistair reached forward unthinkingly to touch it.

The merchant running the stall caught his arm carefully. "You have an eye for beauty," he said. "But I can't just allow you to run your hands over it unless you intend to buy." Releasing Alistair's hand, the man gently plucked one of the strings, which rang sweetly in comparison to the rest of the noise in the market. "This was crafted in Orlais by a master, and was intended for the Empress's bards. It is not for beginners."

"I don't want it for me," Alistair snapped, aggrieved at the merchant's snootiness. He looked down; the man's fingers were long and tapered, well suited to playing an instrument themselves, and he could suddenly understand his concern, a little. It would be like giving a king's sword to a newly-recruited town guard. He lowered his voice a little. "I want to give it as a gift. The lady in question was once a bard, herself."

"Really?" The merchant looked a little appeased. "Well. The price is three sovereigns."

That was pretty much everything Jaiden had given him for supplies, but the thought didn't occur to Alistair at this point. All he could imagine was the joyful expression on Leliana's face when he gave her the lute. He handed over the coins without a murmur of complaint. The merchant seemed surprised.

"Well – I…here, I'll throw in a case. You'll want to keep it safe until you go to see your lady friend." He winked. "Good luck."

Alistair felt his ears turn red. "Thank you," he said stiffly, walking away with his prize.

He was only a few paces away when he saw a herbalist's stall, and he tipped the few remaining coppers into his palm. Barely enough to buy a single flask. And the man who had sold him the lute would probably not take it back now.

He winced, suddenly wishing he had had any of the others around to talk him out of his flight of fancy.

_Jaiden's going to kill me._

**O**

**Next chapter – Alistair gets a rollicking and Jaiden finds out what happened at the alienage.**


	11. Cracks

**A long one, in which Zevran proves there's more to him than just lechery and killing things. I own only Jaiden.**

**O**

_Jaiden was standing in the centre of the clearing, eyes upraised and unfocused. She did not acknowledge Wynne's approach._

"_Jaiden? Jaiden, what's wrong?" There was a faint noise, and Wynne looked down to see a crack forming across the Warden's hand. " _

_The elf remained immobile as a statue, and Wynne could only watch in horror as the fracture multiplied and spread. Jaiden did not seem to be aware of her own deterioration; simply kept looking upwards as her body began to break apart like ancient stone. The mage let out a soundless cry, searching desperately for her magics. Everything seemed dulled; the normally effortless power that lay beneath her skin was gone, and she felt naked and helpless. _

_In a last-ditch effort, she reached forward and tried to stop the damage with her hands, but at her touch, there was a resounding howl; as she jerked back in fear, Jaiden stirred, and gave her a mournful look that cut to her soul just before the Warden crumbled into dust._

"Wynne? Wynne, can you hear me?" The mage blinked, feeling the thickness of sleep receding from her mind. Alistair was kneeling in front of her, awkwardly patting her knee. "Are you all right?"

"Yes." _No._ "I was…having a bit of a nightmare." She rubbed the back of her neck; falling asleep in her seat had left her with a crick. Alistair pushed over a flagon of ale and she gratefully poured herself a generous measure. "Was I making much noise?"

"Not really." Alistair looked over his shoulder at the rest of the tavern; nobody outside their small group appeared to be paying attention to her. "You looked a little distressed, that's all. I'm sorry for waking you up." He jerked a thumb towards the other end of the pub. "The others weren't close enough to notice, anyway."

Leliana was curled by the fireplace with her new lute on her knees. Alistair's ear was still red from where Wynne had given it a hard twist for being an idiot, although she'd decided to leave the bulk of the punishment to Jaiden; secretly, she was pleased that the bard would have more of an excuse to sing now. Music was a tonic, and Wynne hoped that having Leliana around would occasionally give the Wardens pause from their daily stresses.

Her mouth twisted with irony. Alistair actually seemed even more confused and awkward around their Orlesian companion, and Jaiden, while joining in the banter, did not appear to be ecstatic about this. Wynne couldn't fault the Warden on that. Forming friendships was all very well, but falling in love would be a downright liability.

Morrigan and Sten had already retired, both citing tiredness and irritability with the Denerim horde. Wynne had been able to understand Morrigan's crabbiness – even one used to the city would doubtless tired of it eventually – but Sten had been a little more curious.

"Ferelden smells unpleasant," he had stated when she asked him what was grating on him enough to make him even more withdrawn. "Seheron smells of tea and incense and the sea. Here, even your capital has middens, and sewers running in the streets."

She couldn't argue with him about that. Even though she had been to Denerim a number of times, and always found it an enjoyably chaotic contrast to the austerity of the Circle, she had to admit that it reeked. Jaiden had been the only one not to pass comment on this – but then again, she let Boy sleep in her tent. Wynne was amazed that the elf's nose worked at all. The mabari in question was curled up on the rug in front of the fireplace; it was rare for him to leave his mistress' side these days, which meant she had to have given him a direct order to return.

Zevran was sitting with his feet up on the opposite side of the table from her, a goblet of wine in one hand and a book in the other. Tipping her head to the side, Wynne peered at the words on the spine. _The Rose of Orlais._

"When did I give you permission to borrow that?" Zevran didn't take his eyes from the page he was absorbing.

"You fell asleep with it on the table and I interpreted it as an invitation," he said. "A truly enjoyable piece of trash, I must admit."

"Try reading heavy tomes with tiny, cramped writing and having to stop every few sentences to practice an incantation or a hand gesture," Wynne responded crisply. "You learn to enjoy that which has no educational value after a while."

"Oh, I don't know." Zevran chuckled. "I imagine it could be quite educational, provided one was aware of what sex is actually like." His eyes flicked across to Alistair, who was staring intently into his tankard.

Wynne fought back a smile. It was true that that particular book, while…descriptive…used a number of flowery euphemisms with which the average youngster would be unfamiliar.

Her cheeriness receded, however, as details of her dream began creeping back into her head. "Zevran, Alistair, I have a question."

The men looked at each other in surprise. Alistair shrugged. "Go for it."

"Should we tell Jaiden about the alienage?"

Alistair blinked at her.

"Why wouldn't we?"

"It's just…" She would have to phrase this carefully. "You already know most of what she's going through. The responsibility is fairly weighty, I imagine."

"Thank you for reminding me," Alistair said, mock-dolefully. "And here I thought the ale had just about eased it up a little."

"Nevertheless; you've both lost a great deal, but if I may venture it, Jaiden has suffered more than you." Alistair opened his mouth to protest, and then shut it again, looking a little sulky. "You know as well as any of us that she is not a callous person."

"Then you have come to the same conclusion as I," Zevran interrupted.

"Which is?" Alistair looked from one to the other, confused.

"She didn't have a choice. Either that or the alternative presented to her was so horrible that she would not entertain it." Wynne sighed. "You both carry a heavy burden. But whatever Jaiden has been through has left scars, and if pushed too hard, too soon, I fear she will break. Look at how guilty she felt about tearing us from the Fade."

Alistair frowned. "She couldn't look me in the eye for a while." He sighed. "I wish she'd been there earlier. At my sister's, I mean. Perhaps she'd feel less bad about it."

Wynne's heart ached for the boy. After making their purchases, she and Leliana had bumped into Alistair, and he had tentatively reminded them of Jaiden's promise that he could visit that woman – Goldanna. Instead of the loving family he had envisioned, Alistair had found a bitter shrew of a woman, who had only been interested in Alistair's money – or lack thereof. From a different viewpoint, Wynne could almost have admired Goldanna. Confronted with a prince, a mage, and a bard, she had refused to be cowed by any of them.

That didn't stop her wishing she could have hexed the woman for the things she had said to her brother.

"She'll have to find out eventually." Zevran had taken his feet off the table and was studying Wynne coolly. "It is her family who will be largely affected, after all."

"Yes, but…" Alistair looked to Wynne, silently affirmed that he agreed with her. "Wardens are meant to give up home and family when they join."

"And how much choice did she have there, I wonder?" Zevran put the book down, marking his place with his finger. "I might remind you that not moments ago you were mentioning your own familial visit."

"What are you talking about?" Leliana had left the fireplace and came to sit by Wynne, the lute cradled in her arms like a protective mother with a child. She'd been unable to conceal her delight when Alistair had presented it to her earlier, and with good reason – it was a Laux Maler, one of the best, as far as Wynne could recall. The bard had tried to do the right thing and return it when she discovered it had come at the cost of their medicine money, but it would have taken a blind idiot to miss the relief on her face when the merchant refused to refund them. While unable to perform due to the general ruckus of the tavern, she had been gently strumming it ever since she had taken a seat.

"Our wise sage here would prefer to refrain from enlightening Jaiden vis-a-vis the situation in the alienage." Zevran picked the book back up, appearing unconcerned, although Wynne noted that didn't stop him from taking an appreciative glance at the bard. Alistair didn't miss it either, and glared at the assassin. If Leliana was aware of either, she ignored it.

"Is that really a good idea? If she finds out we kept such a big secret from her-"

"She already keeps some from us," Wynne countered. "And we can always feign ignorance. Besides, I doubt it would be the only concealment within this group." Her mind was on Morrigan. She knew that woman had to have an ulterior motive for travelling with them, but couldn't work it out – she seemed to desire neither money nor fame nor power. All Morrigan seemed to want was to be left alone.

And of course there was Sten, whose homicidal rampage still went unexplained. The qunari seemed dourer than ever these days, and this presented itself in his becoming even more monosyllabic than usual.

She had her own secret, of course, but if she could get away with never sharing it, she would.

Leliana did not argue back as much as Wynne had expected; perhaps she was as scared as Alistair of Jaiden simply taking off at the news and never coming back. The elder was feeling increasingly nervous, however; Jaiden was half an hour late. If she had decided against sense and headed for the alienage instead of carrying out her appointed tasks, then there was really nothing they could do but pray she would return.

When Wynne shut her eyes for a moment, however, all she could see was the elf breaking away.

It was another hour before the door swung open and Jaiden walked in. Wynne was relieved to see that the Warden was smiling, and she made a swift beeline for them, dropping her pack on the table and sighing with relief.

"Oof. Sorry I'm late."

"We were worried," Wynne said firmly. "What on earth took you so long?"

"Requisitioning the supplies we required took longer than expected." The door swung open again and Slim ambled in, lifting his hand in a lazy wave before joining a group of men in the far corner. Jaiden pulled a map out of her pack. "Genetivi wasn't at his house, but his assistant told me that he's doing some research around Lake Calenhad. We must have missed him by days – apparently he's staying at the Spoiled Princess."

Alistair groaned. "Just our luck. What else?"

"I got us some more money." Jaiden pulled out a pouch and opened it just enough to reveal the gleam of several sovereigns to the gathered group before hastily tucking it away again.

"Maker's mercy, where did all that come from?" It had been just under five hours – how had Jaiden got so much money in that time?

"The local sergeant needed a hand," Jaiden shrugged. "There were some mercenaries causing trouble at a whorehouse near the alienage." Wynne could detect no underlying tone that suggested Jaiden knew what had happened, but she couldn't help tensing up, all the same. "I lied and told them I worked for Arl Howe. They buggered off quickly enough. I didn't even have to threaten them directly." She smiled. "Easiest money I've ever made."

"And what else?"

Jaiden raised an eyebrow. "Do I have to account for all my movements? I'm sorry I'm late, but I am back now. And I'm fairly hungry, at that." She flagged down a passing waitress and ordered a round of drinks and some food.

"I doubt the sergeant paid that much for shooing out some mercenaries, even if you did do it on your own," Wynne persisted. "Where did the rest of it come from?"

"Slim." Jaiden rested back in her seat, stretching. "He used to send me on errands when I was little and I did a couple for him this afternoon. He pays pretty well."

"I'll say." There was no doubt in her mind that Jaiden was omitting something, but Wynne was fairly relieved at the knowledge that Alistair's little attack of impulse would not hurt them too badly, not to mention that Jaiden was back in one piece. "You were lucky with those mercenaries, though. What if they turned violent?"

"They did." Jaiden's tone was downright cheerful. "They ambushed me shortly after I left the Pearl."

"WHAT?" Alistair's eyes were nearly bugging out of his skull in horror, Leliana had turned pale and Wynne felt her heart beating furiously in her chest. "What happened?"

"The sergeant who employed me turned up with his men in the nick of time." Jaiden undid part of her armour and lifted up the tunic underneath, revealing a massive black bruise on her abdomen. "You wouldn't mind fixing this would you? It smarts a bit."

Wynne winced, but reached out, pumping her healing magic into the skin until the delicate area began to soft in colour and fade. "Why are you being so flippant about this?"

"Because I beat almost all of them on my own." Jaiden's eyes were gleaming with pride. "There were six armed men there and I got all of them except the leader – he sent me sprawling." She smiled, looking so genuinely happy that Wynne couldn't sustain her anger. "I think I'm getting better at this combat stuff."

"That's…something, I suppose." The last of the bruise faded and the Warden lowered her shirt with a sigh of relief. "But please, promise me you won't take on any more tasks like that without at least one of us going with you."

"I promise." The drinks arrived and Jaiden filled her goblet almost to the brim. Wynne watched her look around the table, smirking at Zevran's choice of reading material, and reaching down when Boy came over to give him a welcoming pat on the head. "Where did that come from?"

She was gesturing at Leliana's lute.

"I. Erm. Um." Alistair was trying his best, but sheer fright had drained him of his vocal abilities.

"Our dashing templar bought it as a gift," Zevran spoke for him. Jaiden raised an eyebrow.

"That was…sweet of him." She leaned forward to look at it. "It's beautiful."

"So it should be." Zevran was now openly smirking at Alistair, who looked as though he was praying for the ground to swallow him up. "It was expensive."

"Was it now?" Jaiden turned her head slowly. "And would the money have come from his sensible trading of a few unnecessary items to free up space in his pack?"

"I spent the medicine money on it I'm sorry please don't kill me," Alistair babbled frantically. His fellow Warden stared at him in dead silence for a few seconds.

Wynne was impressed. She'd not seen such an icy countenance since her mentor had passed on.

Jaiden stood up. "Alistair. A word outside, if you please." She walked out of the tavern, Alistair trailing after her with a hangdog expression.

"Why did you do that?" Leliana had turned a glare on Zevran, who, as usual, appeared unflappable. The elf smiled, pulling out a toothpick and beginning to clean out his teeth.

"Well, somebody was going to have to tell her. Why not me? None of you seem so inclined."

"We didn't feel like dropping Alistair in it," Leliana said hotly.

"Speak for yourself," Wynne countered. "It was a lovely gesture, but still a foolish decision on his part. If Jaiden were less well connected here we could have been in real trouble."

"It's a curious thought, isn't it?" Zevran smiled. "Out of all of us, she is the youngest, and to the casual observer perhaps somewhat naïve and soft-hearted. She's lead us miles out of the way to help complete strangers. And yet under it all is a thief, somebody who has made a living – perhaps only survived by – clinging to the underbelly of Denerim society, and evidentially skilled enough at it to have good connections. I believe she is far tougher than any of you give her credit for."

"You were saying, when she left us earlier, that you wondered what she would be like as a Crow." Leliana's expression of curiosity was tempered with worry, as though afraid of what Zevran would say. "How do you think she would have fared?"

"If they had got her young, as they did me, then I believe she could have been magnificent." The Crow finished his glass and poured another. It occurred to Wynne that the slender elf was putting away the drink at a surprising rate. "As it is, she doesn't see murder as the art form it is. She wasn't celebrating killing those mercenaries earlier, merely defeating them." He looked at Leliana slyly. "I think she would have been far more suited to your former profession."

"I don't believe there is much difference." Leliana looked at the tabletop. "Bards are merely…less specific in what they will do for money."

"Ah. Shall I assume that you _were_ called upon to kill?" Wynne looked over at the Orlesian. She had no doubt that Leliana was loyal to the Wardens, but all she'd seen of the girl was the virtuous ex-sister, who said a passage from the Chant every day and always tithed from her own pocket whenever they passed by a town with a Chantry. But she had been a very different person before…whatever it was that had driven her from Orlais, and wondering at the circumstances behind that story made Wynne as uncomfortable as thinking about Jaiden's past.

"Often." Leliana drew patterns on the table with a fingertip. "I didn't like it, but I did it anyway."

"You didn't like it?" Zevran raised an eyebrow. "You didn't like the thrill of the hunt?"

"I suppose…" Leliana was hesitantly, her eyes flickering across to Wynne in search of a reaction. Wynne kept her features stoic – what Leliana might have done in the past had no bearing on the present. "I did enjoy it. The hunt. Not the killing."

"I believe that is what Jaiden is learning to enjoy," Zevran said astutely. "The killing merely signals the end of the hunt, and I do not believe she will ever take pleasure from that – even though without said closure, the chase goes on." He blinked slowly, his hazel eyes fixed on Leliana. "You killed your marks cleanly, I hope."

"Whenever possible." Leliana bit her lip, some troubling memory passing behind her eyes.

"So you agree that it is better to be quick, to get the pain done with as fast as possible?" Zevran was looking between both of them now, although Wynne could not comprehend why. Something was beginning to nag at her, though.

"Of course." Leliana seemed puzzled. "Why would I want to cause unnecessary pain?"

"Well, I gather it's a good method of gathering information." Zevran rubbed his head. "But for you, I imagine not. You were one to send your marks off to the Maker with a smile on their faces and on rubbery legs, am I correct?" The seriousness of his tone had lifted, and as Leliana spluttered Wynne rolled her eyes.

"Must you be such a child? Are you incapable of maintaining a serious conversation?"

"I know. I am terrible and it makes me sad," Zevran sighed, without the slightest trace of remorse. "May I rest my head in your bosom? I wish to cry."

"Maker's breath. You can cry well away from my bosom, of that I am certain." To Wynne's alarm, Zevran scooted around, looking up at her with wide brown eyes that were quite convincing in their sorrow.

"Did I tell you I was an orphan? I never knew my mother." Unable to hold in his laughter, the sad façade broke and Wynne shoved the Crow away.

"I give up on you, Zevran."

"You were trying in the first place?" Jaiden had re-entered the tavern, Alistair trailing in her wake and staunching an impressively bloody nose. "You've got more patience than me, that's for certain."

"Oh, Jaiden." Wynne stood and passed a hand over the damage, which fortunately amounted to no more than broken capillaries. "Was that really necessary?"

"Well, I could only yell at him for so long. I got bored and decided to make my point quickly so we could come back in and drink some more." She looked towards Alistair. "You learned your lesson, didn't you?"

Alistair made a thick gurgle that sounded vaguely like 'Yes'.

"Right." Jaiden pulled out a chair. "So, what prompted you to finally abandon your attempts to make Zevran a model citizen?"

"I merely wished to weep upon her comely bosom." Zevran smirked as Jaiden hastily stifled a giggle under Wynne's glare. "She is very cruel, our elder mage."

"Must you refer to me like that?" Wynne protested.

"Yes, Zevran," Jaiden said, her voice teasing. "No need to go about reminding her of the truth every five minutes."

"Oh yes, that reminds me." Zevran swung back in his chair, interlocking his fingers behind his head. "Jaiden, after you were recruited into the Wardens, there was a purge on the alienage, a result of the events that occurred that day. The area is now sealed off and there are a great number of causalities. There is also said to be a plague running rampant in there. All things told, I'd assume that the majority of your family are dead by now."

Wynne felt frozen to her seat with horror.

Jaiden's skin was ashen.

"W-what?"

"You have my sympathies, if it means anything." Zevran stood, placing a hand on Jaiden's back as the elf began to retch. "But I thought it better to get this news out of the way as quickly as possible. After all-" he lifted Jaiden's chin and stared into her eyes, and every particle of Wynne's body was crying _Stop him!_, but she could only sit there and watch helplessly as he finished. "-We can't have it interfering with your duties as a Grey Warden."

Jaiden's fist drove into his stomach, knocking the Crow into a chair and sending him tumbling to the floor. It occurred to Wynne, even as she sat staring numbly, that Zevran could have blocked the blow. Jaiden turned on her heel and ran out of the pub at full pelt.

"What in Andraste's name was that for?" Before Zevran could disentangle himself from the wreckage of the chair, Alistair had bent over him and grabbed him by the collar, spraying blood everywhere as he yelled in the Crow's face. "Why did you do it?"

Zevran turned his head to look at Leliana and Wynne. "Somebody was going to have to tell her." Word for word what he had said earlier. "Why not me? None of you seem inclined."

Alistair followed his line of sight, but did not understand. "Do you realise what you've done?"

"Cauterised the wound," Zevran said coolly. "She will be back, once she has had time to recover from the shock. If she had found out later on that her trust in us was misplaced, she could easily have simply given up and left. As it is, she still trusts you three. I'm the one who's just thrown duty in her face."

Wynne felt her gut clench. Everything Zevran made sense, and despite the utter detachment with which he had informed Jaiden of the tragedy he had essentially taken the hit for the rest of them. Alistair dropped the elf and growled angrily, stamping off to the bar to pay for the damage and ensure they kept their rooms. Leliana stood up.

"I'm going after her." She turned to the mabari. "Can you find her, Boy?" The hound huffed, beginning to lead the way out of the tavern. Leliana paused to look closely at Wynne, concern written across her features. "Are you all right?"

Wynne nodded, suddenly feeling the weight of her years pressing on her. The look on Jaiden's face when Zevran had been speaking, that shocked-to-the-core expression of misery, anger and fear, was something she doubted she would ever be able to erase from her mind.

She shut her eyes and watched the cracks forming again.

**O**

From the top of the Chantry roof, Jaiden could just about see the very top branches of the vhenadahl stretching above the alienage walls. She had spent a great deal of her childhood climbing that tree, and it had been a matter of pride that nobody had ever gone higher than her. It had been bliss, on moonlit nights, to stand up amongst the offshoots that were barely more than twigs, listening to the leaves rustle around her in her own private world. There was never much personal space down in the cramped conditions and the dirt, and she had been free to think up there.

It occurred to her that since the last time she had scrambled up those branches – two days before her wedding - and right now, she had not truly had a single moment to herself. Even her quiet reflection on her companions had been joined by Boy.

She'd been unable to believe it. Zevran had to have been lying, trying to twist her for his own benefits – wasn't that what crows did? – but then she'd run, faster than she ever had in her life, and found herself at the alienage gates. The guard had intoned a warning to stay away in a bored voice, barely even looking at her as he explained what had happened.

At a loss for what to do, she had wandered around for a few minutes before deciding she needed to be up, away from the dank stench of the city and any humans who might decide an elf out after curfew would be a perfect end to the evening's entertainment. The Chantry had the highest roof in the market district, and she had scaled it quickly, mindless of splinters and blisters and torn hands, desperately seeking some distance from what had happened.

"_Don't leave me alone…please…t-take me home."_ Jaiden tried to press her ears shut against Shianni's desperate sobs, but they only grew louder in the darkness of her mind. "_Get me out of here…so much blood…"_

"Stop it." She wasn't even aware of speaking the words out loud. What came next was worse, if possible.

"_Just when things seemed at their worst, there you came, like a hero from a tale, with fire in your eyes."_

_Where was your dramatic entrance when soldiers were slaughtering your kin?_

"Stop it." The voices were beginning to sound mocking now.

"_You've been my hero since we were kids." Soris, looking embarrassed and grateful. "It's just official now." _

_Did your heroism save him from being locked in the alienage like a rat in a plague house? _

"Stop…" She felt the tears streaming down her face, almost unbearably hot in the cold air, and fell to her knees, fists curling in front of her face as she hunched over on the roof. The pain was so strong she thought she would die from him and right there, crouched above the Maker's house, she sent her first real prayer to Him.

_Let it end, please…I can't do this…_

"…I can't…"

_What about your father? Old. Tired. He lost his wife and you left him. What did he have to live for?_

"…no more…"

_Taolen? Nessa? Valendrian? How were their lives improved by your heroism?_

"…please..."

_Should have let him take you. Snivelling, worthless scrap of flesh. He would have been done with you quickly. You could have gone home. You would never have heard of the Blight, or fight darkspawn, or be hunted by the man in charge of the kingdom. You would have died in the alienage, none the wiser. Never met Cailan. Never met Loghain. _

_Never met Alistair. Or Leliana. Or Wynne, Zevran, Sten, Morrigan, Boy._

She blinked.

_Never had a chance to prove you could be something more than a serving girl or a whore. _

The tears were still flowing, she was still curled up in a ball on the Chantry roof, and grief still threatened to rip her apart. She felt desperately fragile, the strength that had imbued her on fighting the mercenaries completely gone. But something inside her fought back against the miserable, accusing echoes of her mind.

"_Be brave, and strong, and wise." Her father looked at her with more sorrow than she could ever remember seeing; even more than the night her mother had died. But he kept himself together, clasping her shoulders and pressing a last kiss to her cheek as he spoke. She heard his single, hitched sob as she entered the house to talk to Shianni, and the sound nearly undid her. But she would not let it._

"_You took all the responsibility for what happened. You're amazing, you know that?" Shianni, damaged but not broken, her eyes full of wonder. _

And then there was Duncan. Jaiden could see him almost as clearly as if he stood before her, hair whipping in the wind, a gentle hand reaching down to rest softly on her shoulder.

"_You are both Grey Wardens." His eyes were as kind as his voice was firm. "I expect you to be worthy of that title." _

"Jaiden?"

The Warden shrank at the sound of Leliana's voice. She could hear Boy panting, so Leliana had to know Jaiden was somewhere around, but her voice did not rise again. Instead, there were footsteps, followed by the sound of a rattle as coins dropped into the donation box. Jaiden crawled forward on her front, peering over the edge of the roof as Leliana knelt. Her voice rose clearly through the still night.

"_Blessed are those who stand before_

_The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter._

_Blessed are the peacekeepers, champions of the just._

_Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow._

_In their blood the Maker's will is written."_

It was the Chant, but not as Jaiden had heard it expressed before. Instead on an intonation, it was a heartfelt prayer, and her usual scathing response fell away as Leliana looked up and met her eyes.

"Come down, Jaiden."

She obeyed. Her body felt heavy and there was a numb spot in her chest where she was sure her heart usually sat. The bard helped with the last steps of the descent, and when her feet touched the ground her knees gave way. Leliana sank with her, wrapping arms about the elf, and Jaiden shuddered at the touch, feeling the sobs begin to build again. She could hear others approaching, and looked up to see Alistair, Wynne and Zevran gathered close by.

At Leliana's gesture Alistair and Wynne joined them on the ground. Alistair enveloped Leliana and Jaiden in his embrace while Wynne simply touched Jaiden's hand lightly. Zevran hung back, leaning against the wall and appearing not the least concerned by what was happened, but when she lifted her gaze in a silent plea, she did not miss the relief in his eyes.

They crowded around her, a strong wall of support, and Jaiden leaned against Leliana's shoulder and cried until exhaustion finally overtook her and there were no more tears left.

**O**

**Ouch. This was an incredibly difficult chapter to write. I wrote it from every single character's perspective before I settled on Wynne, and even then I'm not sure if it's the best I could do. Anyway, I hope I conveyed the emotions well.**


	12. Mutiny

**After last chapter, I stretch myself again by trying to corral Sten's thoughts for an entire chapter. I own nothing but Jaiden, blah-de-blah. Thank you to all reviewers for the last one; nothing makes a girl feel good than a lot of people telling her she handled a difficult scene well : ) Unfortunately I don't think I've maintained the standard in this one, but it's up to all of you to judge.**

**-Genjutsu-Dragon-**

**O**

The sword swung quickly through the air, smashing into Jaiden's side and sending her tumbling to the ground.

"Up." Sten lifted his weapon as the elf clambered painfully to her feet again. She was sweating and her limbs trembled with exhaustion, but she maintained her focus and rebalanced herself. Sten looked for any signs of quarter and found none. Were they fighting seriously, he could have taken one blow to down her and another to finish the Warden off, tired as she was. But the sparring match continued, and would until Jaiden finally gave up and crawled over to Wynne to be healed.

Since the Crow had started training the Warden, she had become almost impossibly quick, nimbly dodging the majority of his blows and slipping behind him to trip him up. Fighting her was like being beset by a persistent fly; she could do no real harm to the qunari, but she could irritate him, being difficult to catch, and in battle that would be enough distraction to get him killed by an ally. However, when he _did_ strike her, she was inevitably toppled from her feet. In an effort to keep herself able to move quickly, she had developed the bad habit of balancing on the balls of her feet, instead of the quick, even steps Zevran used to get himself out of the way. She was very easy to knock over – more so than she had been before.

The Crow sat by, cleaning his weapons and occasionally swatting the Warden on the ankle with a long stick to correct her. "Feet down, Jaiden." Jaiden cursed and lowered her heels, just in time to be knocked to the floor again.

They had stayed in Denerim for few days whilst the armourer had put together their new equipment, and in that time the behaviour of the others had become nearly insufferable. Morrigan had taken to pestering him for her own amusement, and, he suspected, as a distraction from her own discomfort at being so walled in. Humans were such a curious race – given their enthusiasm for breeding, why did they build their houses so close together, out of such poor materials, along such narrow streets? Even the basest healer knew those were conditions for rampant disease.

The bard and the templar had trailed around after Jaiden like shadows, to the point where their leader was becoming visibly irritated at being followed everywhere. She had twice deliberately lost them in the winding streets, returning to the tavern after a couple of hours, and utterly ignoring both Alistair and Wynne's protestations at her behaviour.

Since they had left the city, the elf had come to him every night with a demand for training, and he had willingly given it; when they sparred, she did not pester him with questions, and she had taken to fighting until she dropped. The Crow frequently joined them, teaching Jaiden how two allies might be employed well against a single, stronger enemy, or both taking on the Warden, pushing her from every direction until she finally had to hold up her hand and concede. The curiosity was strong now and after Jaiden had finished fighting and gone off to bathe, Sten enquired of the Crow why the red-haired elf had started expressing such enthusiasm for their nightly bouts.

"I believe she is thinking of home," Zevran said, neatly tidying away his weapons and settling down to begin work on his armour. "Tell me, Sten – have you ever desired revenge?"

Sten kept his face impassive, even as his memories of the events in the Fade washed over him. Jaiden had only just managed to talk him out by reminding him that he owed his fallen brothers vengeance. He still had not fully shared the events of how he came to be caged in Lothering with the Warden, and that they were drawing close to the site of the disaster made his skin prickle.

_Anaan essam Qun. _It would not happen again.

"Yes."

"That is what she wants." Zevran began working the leather straps, testing for weaknesses. "But there is nothing specific for her to rage against. But somewhere there will be a small, irrational voice telling her that she could achieve it, if she were faster, or stronger. That is why she uses us, instead of those she is friendlier with." He cocked his head in the direction of Leliana and Alistair, who were preparing dinner – or rather, Leliana was trying to, and Alistair was getting in the way. "You are the strongest; I am the fastest. If she wants to become either, it is best that she learns from us, yes?"

"I see." Jaiden's behaviour was still not entirely clear to Sten; if she had anger, she could vent it on the darkspawn. But he could understand why the elf pushed herself now, and resolved to press her as any he would train for the Beresaard. She would never match him, her frame was too small; but he could teach her to withstand his blows.

That would take time, which was a commodity they didn't have. Even in the Bannorn they were encountering darkspawn scouting groups. The horde was preparing to move northwards, and once it did travel would be a lot harder. If they had travelled straight from the Circle to Orzammer, the majority of the darkspawn would hopefully have left the Wilds, allowing their group to circle round while hunting for the Dalish. Instead, they were charging right across the middle of Ferelden, on the world's largest wild-goose chase.

He had tried to allow for the fact that Jaiden was young; that she was untrained; even that she was a woman. The others followed, so he did, as he had promised, but there was still no sign of that atonement he so desperately sought, and the thought that he might never again see Serehon still clouded his mind.

They were close to the shores of Lake Calenhad, now; Jaiden's plan was for them to arrive around mid-afternoon so they would have an excuse to rest in proper beds for the night. It was a waste of money when they could camp, but Sten was unable to quash the faint sense of relief. He could not have slept had they been outside. Add to that, he may have been a veteran of a number of long campaigns, but that didn't stop his back from seizing up whenever he rested on particularly rocky ground.

Jaiden returned from the river, brushing off Zevran's offer to help her dry off with a tired smile. The hollows under her eyes were getting darker, and during his shifts on watch Sten had heard her shifting around in her tent a lot more. When the Wardens dreamt of the archdemon, both she and Alistair woke up screaming; these would appear to be nightmares exclusive to her. The one time they had shared watch since leaving Denerim, Jaiden had kept a steady pace walking around the camp, lost in her thoughts.

She settled on a log by the fire, watching Leliana push Alistair away from the stewpot with an expression of amusement, wringing her hair onto the grass.

Sten went over to sit by her.

"Warden, I have a question."

"Yes?"

"What do you hope to achieve by this – diversion from the Blight?"

Jaiden, used to his terseness, did not flinch. "You mean saving the life of one of the most important men in Ferelden? A number of things." She twisted the ring on her left hand. "We can get the support of a very influential lord on our side at the Landsmeet. So we can overthrow Loghain, which will make our job of trying to pull Ferelden together against the Blight a lot easier. It'll also earn us respect, which will be very useful when trying to convince a whole army to accept the leadership of a scruffy little knife-ears."

This made sense, so far as assuming removing Loghain from his seat of power was a good thing. Sten was not convinced that it was a good idea. "Why do you wish to be rid of him? If you proved yourself loyal, you could use him for his strategic ability – which is not one of your strengths, Warden."

Jaiden glared at him. "You forget that Loghain blamed the Grey Wardens for the death of the king. He couldn't simply turn around and say 'these two are all right' – too many people would ask questions."

"How do you know that Loghain does not truly believe that the Wardens are responsible?" Sten noted that Alistair was looking his way, frowning. "From what I have heard between you and the templar, you were tasked with lighting a beacon at a certain time. You were delayed. This Loghain could have assumed that the signal came late because it was ordered of you."

"That requires him to believe that the Grey Wardens were attempting to aid the darkspawn." She was getting angrier now. "And not a single person I know would be foolish enough to believe that."

"Humans are a foolish race, as far as I have observed." To his surprise, her expression softened a little, even as Alistair was beginning to look aggravated.

"That they can be." She brushed her fingers through her hair, her ears sticking out far more noticeably than normal through the wet locks. "But even the most numb-minded sot would have to think twice about it – unless they were unwaveringly loyal to Loghain."

"Dinner is ready." Leliana called over, and Jaiden stood up.

"Don't worry, Sten. If Brother Genetivi has no luck, we'll send word to Redcliffe and concentrate on the Blight. We'll be back on the road to the Dalish before you know it."

It occurred to Sten that perhaps the elf was not as keen on this diversion as he had thought. Perhaps she also considered it a waste of time. But she was persistent, having made her promise to Teagan, and would drive at it until all hope of finding these famous charred remains was gone.

Sten accepted the bowl that Leliana handed him. The food was more palatable than when the templar cooked, and Jaiden's idea of cooking appeared to involve a great deal of meat – and nothing else. Both she and her fellow Warden ate voraciously, and watching the elf gnaw at a slightly bloodied lump was not something the qunari enjoyed seeing. Nonetheless, he wished he had some of the spices of home.

_A day later._

They reached Lake Calenhad in the late evening, having been involved in a heavy ambush that day. The bandits had set up quite a sophisticated series of traps, and while Jaiden, Zevran, and Leliana moved around them smoothly, Alistair had tripped over one and promptly been scorched by two nearby barrels igniting. His agonised yells had brought their attackers running, and it had been a hard fight; the terrain was uneven and provided a great deal of cover for their enemies. Sten had dispatched his targets with ease, but been wounded in the shoulder by an archer and had to fight one-handed, straining his right arm from elbow to wrist.

Their group had been a mess by the time they finished. Leliana, Wynne and Morrigan were unscratched, but the rest of them, including the hound, needed at least several minutes of healing before they were back up to peak condition. Consequently, Jaiden was in a bad mood, and they walked down to the tavern in silence.

Sten did not feel well.

The shadows clustered around were numerous enough to hold the darkspawn that had attacked his brethren; there was the spot he had lain when they had leapt from the earth and swallowed up his companions; there was where he had last felt his sword in his hand. A terrible cramping sensation swept through him at the memory of Asala, and he was not surprised when Wynne turned to him.

"Sten, are you all right? You're…pale."

"I am fine." How could he explain this to them; these people who held weapons for a short while and traded them as easily as they did their clothing? Even more easily, in fact – it had taken a great deal of work on the bard's part to persuade Jaiden that she desperately needed new boots, and even then the elf had refused to throw the tattered footwear away. Some sentimental attachment – apparently they had belonged to the Warden's female – _tamassran_, he supposed was the closest word, although he knew it was not the same signifier as in his lands. The word Jaiden had used was 'mother'. It had made the bard fall silent, although Sten could not understand why.

He strode forward, tapped Jaiden on the shoulder to get her attention.

"A moment, Warden." Jaiden rubbed her eyes, groaning, before gesturing the rest of the group to go into the tavern. Morrigan swept in, rolling her eyes; the others hesitated before following. Boy stayed at Jaiden's side, and Sten noted that as the elf put a hand on her hound's back she leaned slightly, as though using him for support.

"What is it, Sten?"

"The Blight – how will you end it?"

Jaiden blinked at him. It may have been an odd moment, but Sten needed to know; did Jaiden have any idea how she would actually accomplish her task?

"We have to kill the archdemon. You know that, Sten."

"Is that all? It is surrounded by an ocean of darkspawn."

"And we will kill them all if necessary. That's what the armies we're gathering are for, Sten."

"Except that you are not performing that task right now." He met her eyes with a frown. "You say you are a Grey Warden. So far I am not impressed." Jaiden looked up at him without any discernable emotion on her face.

"I am not here to impress you." She broke the gaze and lifted her weight from Boy, heading to the tavern. Sten followed. She was brave, meeting his eyes so easily; but she had not reassured him. As a leader, she was lacking, and he was growing steadily more unsettled by the notion of following the elf wherever she had a mind to go.

The landlord was already bustling about the others when they entered, bringing them ale and smiling. "Ah, the elven Warden! Good to have you back!" His smile faltered a little as he looked up at Sten, who was still glowering at Jaiden's back, but said nothing.

"Good to be back." Jaiden did not waste words. "We're here looking for a Brother Genetivi – we were told he was staying here."

The man's face went milk-white.

"No! N-no, I've not seen…heard of anybody with that name around here."

Sten grunted. "You are a poor liar."

"Honestly, I haven't!" The landlord's eyes darted between him and a man sitting in the corner, apparently absorbed in his ale. Jaiden noticed, but said nothing, instead drawing the landlord over to the bar where she could lean across and converse with him in a whisper.

During their exchange, the man in the corner stood up and slipped out, leaving half a mug of ale untouched. The bard and the assassin would have noticed as well – Sten could sense them tensing, but unsure of whether to stop the man or not, let him be.

Jaiden returned, her face serious and intent. "Be ready to draw weapons the moment we leave." Her voice was low, and allowed no questioning. She turned and stood by the door, her hand reaching over her head to grasp the handle of her longsword. When they were all in place, Jaiden booted the door open and leapt out – there was a yell from outside and the sound of crashing metal, and one by one they ran out of the door and straight into a frenzied ambush.

The elf clashed with the enemy and disappeared into their midst, taking shelter in amongst the thick wall of their bodies before igniting a grenade. She rolled out between their legs moments before three were reduced to flying chunks of flesh. Sten focused on his own attacker, gritting his teeth. He remembered with painful clarity the last time he had fought here on the shores of this lake, watching as his brethren fell around him, and knew that he would not have to be here were it not for this – this _distraction_. They should have been seeking the Dalish, or going to the dwarves; instead they were here, at a dead end in a pointless maze that could have been so easily side-stepped by giving over control of Redcliffe to the arl's brother.

He would not have to be here with the memories that night burning freshly in his mind.

But these were not darkspawn; they possessed neither the strength nor the savagery of those monsters, although they came close in fervour. They fell easily, and when it was done he dug the end of his sword into the dirt and leaned on it while he recovered his breath, tempted to break it apart for not being the weapon he had allowed himself to lose.

"Damn it!" Jaiden picked up a discarded helmet and threw it hard against the wall of the pub; the cheap metal broke apart with a crash. "I should have guessed, that ferrety little-" she used a word with which Sten was unfamiliar, although he could understand the intention. "We have to go back to Denerim now. I'm going to tear him a new-"

"We do not have to go to Denerim." All eyes turned on to Sten as he spoke, but he kept his gaze fixed on the elf Warden, who was still flushed with rage and exertion.

"Of course we do. That Weylon sent us the wrong way. The landlord said they have a contact in Denerim who sent several knights here as well. We have to find out where Genetivi really went."

"None of this is necessary." He allowed a little anger to creep into his voice, intending to intimidate Jaiden. She met his eyes without flinching. "We should allow the arl's kin to take his place. Then we do not have to go gallivanting into the mountains for the charred remains of a dead woman."

"I made a promise." The rage was subsiding now, but Jaiden did not back away from him.

"That was foolish of you. As is nearly every decision you have made since I joined this group."

"What are you talking about, Sten?" The elder mage asked. He ignored her.

"You should have allowed the templars to cleanse the tower. You should have killed the demon at Redcliffe. You should have headed onto the Dalish. You are weak-minded, Warden, and I do not plan to follow you in your shadow as you flee from battle."

Jaiden glared at him for a moment, her nostrils flaring. "Go, then."

"No. I still have purpose in Ferelden, and you Wardens are needed. As neither of you are suitable to lead, I will take command." Some of his control was returning, and with it, a faint sense of anticipation. To lead again; it was what he had been bred for, _born_ for, and to take his rightful place at the head of the group came second only to retrieving Asala in what could make him feel like himself again.

"What?" The templar's explosion barely turned Sten's head. "Sten, I'm unwilling to lead, but you can't just – mutiny!"

"I served in the qunari army; I was raised to know war. This woman has failed in her duties as Warden and so I will take her place. If you truly care about whether the Blight consumed this land or not, you will obey my command."

"You assume I am just going to stand down, Sten." Jaiden's voice was calm now, but her green eyes were intense and cold.

"I suggest you do." Sten drew his sword. "You are less likely to lose your head."

Jaiden bent to wipe her blades on the grass, and then held them up again.

"Fight me for the right to lead."

"I cannot guarantee that you will not be severely injured."

"Good. Because I'm not going to stop fighting until you surrender or I die."

"Jaiden, no!" Alistair stepped between them and was promptly swatted on the arm with the flat of Jaiden's blade.

"That is unwise of you, Warden." Sten was expecting fear, but instead saw that calm look wash over the elf's features. He'd seen that expression only during battle; as though the heat and noise and clash of weapons did not reach her or distract her, allowing her to focus solely on her enemy. It had started at some point along the road to the Tower, and was becoming an increasingly common sight. This would be no sparring match. She meant to fight him without reserve.

"Stand down or I will make you kneel." Sten looked to their companions once, wondering if any would attempt to rush in and help once Jaiden was down. The bard and the templar were scared; the elder mage was gripping her staff so hard her knuckles turned white. Morrigan looked simply…interested, and the Crow stood with his arms crossed, relaxed and observant.

"Have it your way, Warden."

He felt he had the measure of Jaiden. She had sparred with him almost every night since they had met, obeying his instructions and applying them rigorously in battle – even if she now mixed his techniques with the ones she had learned from the Crow. But she was full of failings, and he knew from experience what areas she left exposed, what hand she favoured, all the little tricks she used.

And even without that knowledge, she was young, and he had been trained as a warrior since before she was born.

So it was with utmost confidence he lifted his sword against their leader. The others were tugging at her, trying to get her to step away. She made a motion with her hand, and the templar and bard reluctantly let go. Sten fully intended to keep the Warden alive – she was required to kill the archdemon, and thus necessary – but that didn't mean he had soften his blows. The healer could patch up any damage after she surrendered.

There was a brief pause, and he charged.

He was expecting her to run out of the way, in any given direction; his blade was held so that he could strike at her whichever route she attempted. He did not expect her to meet him head on. She set one foot back and crossed her blades, preparing to meet his attack in a pose that would have better suited the templar's style. Startled, he pulled back a moment, and _then_ she was under his guard, rolling right beneath his legs, causing him to twist awkwardly in an attempt to catch her. Her foot lashed out and caught him in the back of the knee, and he momentarily lost his balance; long enough for her to spring upwards, bringing the pommels of both blades down strongly on his head.

_Vashedan._ His vision wobbled sharply as a horrible crunching noise sounded from his skull. Jaiden darted away, still ready for him to get up. Smart. He would have expected her to attempt to press the advantage, where he could have caught one of her limbs and shaken her like a rag doll.

It occurred to him that she had been expecting him to challenge her, that she had been feigning her weaknesses when they had fought before. That a slip of an elf could have tricked him - he stood again, suppressed his rage, and ran at her, feinting towards the left. This time she moved, apparently into the blow, and he braced himself for impact. At the very last second, she twisted aside, his blade brushing alongside her and tearing her new armour, and he slammed into her – she stepped backwards three paces, somehow keeping upright, and smacked him in the face with the flat of her sword. He felt his nose shatter and the blood begin to pour down his face; in the brief second he took to recover, her hand lashed out in a familiar movement, and he could not shut his eyes quickly enough before the dirt hit.

So this was why the people he had seen similarly struck recoiled so violently. Sten had assumed that all Jaiden kept in the pouch was soil, a useful distraction while knifing an enemy in the gut. His one thought before pain truly set in was that that the dirt was mixed with crumbled glass. He couldn't help it – he dropped his sword and clawed at his eyes in agony.

He heard Jaiden move around him, slow and deliberate, before the sound of a sword singing through the air reached him and the elf sliced his hamstrings. He fell forward, still blinded, on his elbows, and Jaiden kicked him sharply in the jaw, knocking him on his side. She put a foot on his neck, and he could feel the point of her sword resting alongside it.

"Enough!" He gasped out; he tried to recall the Qun, retrieve a passage that would allow him to overcome the pain, but nothing came; all he could do was ask for an end. "Enough. I was wrong." The pressure on his neck relieved a little, but did not go away completely. "You are strong."

"Do you submit to me as your leader? Will you accept my decisions?"

Something like defiance surged within the qunari, but the tip of the sword remained at his neck. "Yes."

He felt Jaiden hovering for a moment longer – and then the foot lifted from his neck. "Wynne, heal him."

The burning pain in his eyes died down and Sten blinked to clear his vision, trying not to wince at the cramp as his muscles knitted themselves back together. Jaiden was crouched beside him, those peridot eyes fixed on his without fear. He was close enough to reach out a hand and snap her neck; she knew this too, but knew that he would not.

"Just get back in line, Sten."

Slowly, he lifted himself to his feet, brushing the grass and specks of blood from his armour. He was humiliated; had his compatriots in the Beresaard seen that he would have lost all respect. And yet, there was gratification. The elf was still soft-hearted and unwise – it would have been far more sensible to kill him for his attempt to take over – but now he knew she had the strength to compensate for that foolishness.

As he offered a bow, she smiled widely, the first time he had seen her do so since that night in Denerim. The others hovered nearby, evidentially unsure of what to do or say, but Sten could sense their collective relief as she turned to them. That they had been worrying about the Warden's grim demeanour since leaving the capital was no secret.

"C'mon. I think we all need a proper rest tonight." She smirked at Alistair. "Bet I can drink you under the table."

The male Warden looked as though he was about to say something, but the bard nudged him in the ribs – he looked down at her, apparently considering, before returning Jaiden's smile. "You're on, elf. Ten silvers says you hit the deck before me."

"Oh, Maker." Wynne sighed, leaning on her staff. "I'm not curing your hangovers." Morrigan didn't even bothering making comment – simply swept back into the inn with an irritated glare.

Sten looked around the group, searching for any signs of contempt or anger. Only the Crow seemed to really pay attention to him, and that was to give him a smirk before joining the others. The bard and templar were fussing over Jaiden, who seemed somewhat less aggrieved by their attentions than she had in Denerim. "Go on, you idiots, I'm _fine_. Get back inside. I just want a quick word." She glanced over her shoulder at him.

The others obeyed her without question.

It was a little aggravating for Sten to realise that he had been a public example. By the Qun, the elf was _clever_. Before she could open her mouth, he spoke. "You are not as callow as I thought. That is…unexpected."

Jaiden smiled at him. "Thank you, Sten. I'm sorry I let you get this far without any reassurance." She leaned her weight back on one foot. "So…does this mean I get to ask you what you were doing in that cage, now?"

He nodded. She had already asked him the question several times before, but what was to be achieved by the answer? Nothing but that strange emotion the humans called sympathy. And Sten did not require it. They sat on the grass as he began to tell the tale of his venture into Ferelden, and the loss of his brothers. He was surprised when she reflected that it was akin to what had happened to her and the templar at Ostagar; but it was truth. The elf knew, more than anybody, what he had been through. She did not miss the pain on his face as he spoke of Asala, and tentatively extended an offer to help him find it.

"No. You cannot hope to find it." He gestured with a hand at his surroundings. "Were it still here, I would have felt it. Asala is my soul, and she is gone from me. Scavengers would have taken it – traded it." The thought of his sword being so crudely handled rankled at the qunari. "This is a country at war. It could be anywhere."

Jaiden stood, gesturing for him to follow. As he walked behind her, they rounded a small group of trees, and Sten remembered running through them, trying to use the foliage as a shield from the darkspawn blades. She pointed outwards, towards a small, grey-haired human, who was scratching in the dirt with his fingers. "Scavengers like him?"

"Perhaps." He would not hope. But the elf caught his wrist and pulled him along to stand over the man, who was now looking up at them with unmitigated terror. "Excuse me? We're looking for a qunari sword."

**O**

**I don't think that Sten would wait until you got to Haven to kick up a fuss, somehow : ) And defeating him seemed like the perfect way to break Jaiden from her blues. **


	13. Golems and Secrets

**Sorry for slow posting – I have assessments due for university and I'm recently become involved with the DA RPG Warden's Vigil, which is distracting me a lot with posting and very entertaining conversations on the IRC board. If you look about on there you'll find my Highever elf mercenary Siali running about. Again, thank you to everyone who reviewed; it keeps me happy and writing, which is useful when I suffer epic writer's block as I did with this chapter for a while. As a warning: this chapter contains a very oblique reference to attempted suicide.**

**-Genjutsu-Dragon-**

**O**

"How much further? My feet hurt!" Alistair groaned. Since confronting Weylon in Denerim, and discovering that Genetivi was hundreds of miles away in the mountains, Jaiden had been leading them for longer and longer each day. They had covered fifty miles the previous day, and the elf probably would have continued longer had sundown not forced her to set up camp. She had been rising earlier and rousing everyone else with her, until Wynne finally put her foot down and stated that they should have at least eight hours off their feet every night. Jaiden had agreed, although not without irritation.

"Not much further." Jaiden shielded her eyes; winter was beginning to set in, but the sun still shone brightly, and right in their faces. "We'll continue for another hour, and if we find somewhere suitable to camp along the way we'll bed down there."

"We may not even have to go that far." Leliana had the map out and was tracing their progress with a finger, pursing her lips. "There's a village only about a mile from here – they might have an inn."

"Oh? I don't recall seeing one marked along this section of the road."

"It's quite small." Leliana held the map up and pointed to a tiny marking, labelled with barely legible writing.

"Honnleath?" Jaiden raised her eyebrows. "Can't say I've ever heard of it."

"I have." Morrigan, to the Warden's surprise, appeared to be actually listening to the conversation for once, instead of sweeping along in her own world.

"Really?" Alistair turned surprised eyes on her. "But you don't know anything about the world outside the Wilds."

"You really are a glutton for punishment," Zevran observed with a smirk as Morrigan flushed an angry red. "How do you know of it, my dear?"

"A rather aggravating admirer in Denerim bequeathed me with this." Morrigan dug in her pack and produced a length of wood that appeared to be utterly unremarkable, save for some carvings around one end. "He claimed it was a control rod for a golem, which could be found in the same village we are now approaching."

"A golem would be very useful," Alistair said, albeit with a slight dubious tone. "If it's real. Don't those things need an activating word or something?"

"Apparently. He wrote it down for me, although I have little doubt that he simply wished to be rid of an item he could not sell."

"Well, looks like that's our stop, then." Jaiden was not aggrieved at the idea of finishing the day early. Her feet were aching badly but she didn't want to admit this to Wynne, who would instantly tell her to slow down. They had so little time. She could understand how Sten's concern had become enough to drive him to mutiny; she still wondered why she'd agreed to search for the Ashes. It was not a Grey Warden concern.

_We need Eamon to bring down Loghain._

That little piece of logic was not doing much to reassure her any more. Sten had been right; Loghain was a brilliant tactician, and if they managed to talk him round he could make a fantastic ally. But being tied up in Eamon's poisoning, the abandoning of the king, and employing a very expensive assassin to take down the Wardens at a time when the nation's coffers had to be running low – these were not the actions Jaiden would associate with the Hero of River Dane.

No, Loghain was a tyrant, and to unite Ferelden against the Blight he had to be brought to heel.

_Maker's breath, when did I start thinking about things like this?_ Jaiden had never used the phrase 'brought to heel' in her life – it was the term the guards used as an excuse to come into the alienage and start kicking the elves about. She'd noticed it at Redcliffe, and it was beginning to grow on her with each passing day. She was changing.

It was an odd sort of comfort, in a way. The mask she used to hide behind when being asked to make decisions, or leading the way into battle, was gradually becoming part of her, but at the same time she didn't want to become closed-off. If by some miracle, her cousins and her father had survived, she wanted to be able to feel something when she met them again.

Alistair's hand touched her shoulder, bringing her back to the present. "Can you feel that?"

Jaiden looked up as her head began to fill with incessant whispering, and the back of her neck pricked in an all-too-familiar fashion. "Darkspawn."She frowned, looking at the map. Lost in her own thoughts, they had covered three-quarters of that last mile, but there was still a good stretch left before they came to the village; that the darkspawn were already setting off their senses meant one thing. "There's…a lot of them."

"Definitely more than we've ever taken on at once." Alistair was looking ahead, and as Jaiden followed his gaze she saw columns of smoke rising over the next hill. "What do we do?"

This was a problem. If they tried to go around the village, and were sensed, they would be fighting in extremely boggy land, and would be easily hampered. To turn back and take another path could cost them a couple of days. Charging on ahead…Jaiden smiled, allowing her mask to slip into place. "Take them by surprise."

After a brief discussion on tactics, the group began to move forward again, much more slowly and very quietly.

They passed into the main entrance of the village unseen, and Jaiden kept her eyes forward, trying not to look at the dangling corpses of the unfortunates lining the way. It was very unlikely that anybody had survived. Peering around a corner, she saw several genlocks tearing apart a corpse, an emissary stood on a small hillock, and a few hurlocks fighting amongst themselves for loot. Jaiden frowned. Not nearly enough to be setting off her senses so strongly – were more in the houses? They would have to be prepared for a second wave to emerge. She held up a hand and Leliana lifted her bow, aiming carefully at the emissary.

_Right. Three, two, one-_

A screech so loud it nearly shattered Jaiden's eardrums ripped through the air, and out of nowhere a horrifying creature appeared before them. It had a grinning face full of sharp teeth and disproportionately long limbs, the arms ending in scythes instead of hands. It slashed down towards Leliana, and Jaiden threw herself bodily at the bard, knocking her out of the way and driving her blade upwards through its chest; the thing gave another air-rending shriek and collapsed. There was no time to question what it was – their cover had been blown and the darkspawn had turned their full attention on them now. Several more of the twisted creatures came tearing out of nothing, and two more emissaries had appeared from the houses.

"Leliana! Wynne! Morrigan! Take care of the emissaries! Alistair, Sten, Boy, after the lower ranks! Zevran, with me!"

The two elves were used to operating as single units in battle, but Jaiden figured they had a better chance if they stuck together for this one. Side by side they were a whirl of blades, nearly impenetrable, and they clashed with the shrieking darkspawn time and time again until a good twenty of them lay in bloodied heaps on the ground. Sten and Alistair were having trouble against the bulk of the infantry, and she rushed to join them; Leliana's arrows were flying over their heads, picking off the first emissary in short order, but falling against the shield the other two had erected...

The whispering in Jaiden's head became a full-blown roar, and she and Alistair looked at each other, pale with fright. She could feel her impervious mask slipping, as the cause came loping around the corner, beating its chest and growling at them. For a brief moment, she was back at the top of the Tower of Ishal, staring in disbelieving horror as the ogre dropped the half-eaten human corpse and turned towards them, ready for more prey. She had been nearly useless – the monster had chased her in circles around the room while she screamed at Alistair to do _something_, until finally the mage who had accompanied them felled it.

She pulled herself together. Tactics. All they needed was a tactical solution. She finished the hurlock she was squaring off against with a stab to the throat, and lifted her head.

"Morrigan-" her call was cut off suddenly as one of the emissaries struck her in the chest with an arcane bolt, sending her flying several feet and landing hard on her back, winding her. Right in the ogre's path.

_Get up get up get up get up! _Her body refused to obey her and the ogre approached, looking down at her with an expression of pure hatred. Brutish as it was, it could sense the taint in her, and a grin spread across its face, showing off foul yellowed teeth dripping with the gore of its victims. Instead of picking her up and trying to smash her head in, the ogre placed a foot on her torso and began to press down.

Jaiden gasped, trying to cry out to one of the others, but the weight pushed all the air from her lungs and she wheezed desperately. White spots began to form in her eyes and as her bones began to crack under the weight she tried to reach for her dagger, nearly mindless with pain; her scrabbling fingertips caught the pommel and she dragged it towards her, reaching awkwardly over her head to stab the creature. This only succeeded in making it angrier, and she felt its muscles bunch as it prepared to jump.

_Well, that's it_, she thought hazily._ My epic tale of adventure ends with me being turned into Grey Warden jam. _

As she braced herself for it, the ogre roared and staggered back; there was a quick sensation of movement and a gurgling growl before the creature toppled over, stone dead. The sounds of fighting had ceased and Jaiden was vaguely aware of clattering footsteps. Leliana got to her first, kneeling beside her and looking down at the blood seeping through the cracks in her armour with undisguised horror.

"Jaiden…" her hands were already fumbling at the straps, trying to assess the damage.

"'Elia-"Jaiden's attempts at speech were interrupted as she turned her head to the side and began coughing violently, splattering blood across the floor. Leliana pulled out a health potion and tipped the bitter substance down the Warden's throat, shielding her face as Jaiden spluttered half the mixture out.

"It's alright, Leliana." Wynne had broken away from her own fight and knelt on Jaiden's other side, her hands already outstretched, the green magic creeping into the damaged flesh. "All your ribs are broken and one lung is punctured. You've got a lot of surface damage. Other than that, you've got off remarkably lightly; none of your major organs were ruptured." She undid the buckles on Jaiden's armour and carefully cut open the gambeson, revealing the uneven, bloody surface of the Warden's torso. The skin had split in places where the bone had poked through, and Jaiden let her head fall back, wishing she hadn't looked.

Leliana let Jaiden take her hand and hold it tightly as the ribs began to knit back together. "We'll still have to strap you up." Wynne shot a glare towards Zevran, who appeared to be edging towards them. "_You _can stand well away."

"But surely you are in need of some assistance? It will take more than one pair of hands to keep her steady as you bandage her."

"I believe Leliana can help with that." The Crow looked put out. Leliana hazarded a guess that it was not because he wanted to see Jaiden half-naked, mangled as she was, but because he genuinely wanted to help their leader. The elves had become close since the events in Denerim – whether Jaiden was aware that Zevran had been taking the blow for the rest of them was something Leliana did not know, but hard sparring every night forced the Warden to keep speaking to the Crow, and finally she had started asking him questions about life as an assassin. She sounded worryingly fascinated with the concept to begin with, but over time Leliana had realised that what caught Jaiden's attention was the idea that an elf was allowed to lead humans. Zevran had teased her, pointing out that the Warden had her own group of people to follow her about, and Jaiden had been considerably cheered by the realisation.

Wynne resumed healing Jaiden. The elf was pale, and she screwed up her face as the magic began to push shattered edges back together. Leliana bit her lip as the elf squeezed, hard, and she used her free hand to run soothingly through Jaiden's hair as the Warden whimpered in pain.

"It's okay, Jaiden. It's all right."

"I'll believe that – ahn! – when it stops hurting!"

"I would have thought you would have a higher tolerance for pain by now." Morrigan had drifted by, apparently just to observe as she offered Wynne no help.

"You try being stepped on by an ogre!" Leliana fumed. She couldn't believe that Morrigan was so casual about how close they had come to losing their leader. The witch opened her mouth, probably to retort, but Jaiden let out a pained gasp and they all turned attention back to her. With an impatient huff, Morrigan knelt alongside Wynne, and started to pour more magic into the wounds. Wynne gave a barely perceptible nod, but wisely made no comment.

After a few more minutes, the flesh and bone was back to normal, but Jaiden was still extremely sore. Wynne and Leliana helped her remove the rest of her clothing from her top half, before Wynne efficiently bandaged Jaiden firmly from chest to waist. The elf lay back again with a grateful groan.

"Thank you, Wynne." The elder mage nodded, and stood to go and check on the others, but not without a firm warning to Jaiden to avoid movement. "Thank you, Leliana."

Leliana blinked. "For what? Wynne healed you."

"Yes, but I notice that the ogre who was trying to squash me is now lying on the ground with five arrows in its throat." She smiled. "I really owe you."

"You owe me nothing," Leliana insisted, embarrassed. "You saved me from being sliced to pieces right at the beginning."

"Those things…" a shadow fell across Jaiden's face. "I don't think we've encountered them before."

"No. We would definitely have remembered."

"If hurlocks were humans and genlocks were dwarves-" Jaiden bit her lip. "Those must have been elves, once." Leliana cast a glance to the corpse of one lying nearby. They hadn't had time to note it during the battle, but the pointed ears were enough to confirm the fact. "I'm suddenly very, very glad I'm protected against that."

"Is it safe to come over now?" Alistair called from a safe distance. Jaiden lifted a hand and beckoned to him.

The prickling had not died down completely; there were still darkspawn lurking in the lower levels of the village, and the templar had placed them in a single basement. After a few minutes of discussion, Jaiden put Alistair in charge of Sten, Zevran, Boy and Wynne, and the motley group headed through a door on the other side of the square. Morrigan went off to examine the golem – a large construct that made Leliana half-hope that the witch did not succeed in activating it, and Jaiden seemed content to rest her head on Leliana's lap for now. She had tried to send Leliana off with the others as well, but the bard had put her foot down, insisting that Jaiden should have more than one person around in case more trouble occurred.

Jaiden relaxed a little, shutting her eyes, her breath still laboured and slightly rasping. Leliana, not really thinking about what she was doing, continued running her hand over the Warden's hair, trying to avoid tugging on the tangles. The elf definitely needed to be introduced to a proper brush at some point.

That was not what occupied Leliana's mind, however. She felt she owed Jaiden twice, now; once for saving her at the gates and once for not downing the ogre fast enough. It had been a moment of freezing terror, watching the Warden pinned beneath that huge foot, her eyes nearly bugging out of her head and lips moving in soundless cries. She'd fumbled her first arrow, her hands shaking madly, and when she had finally let one loose the ogre had barely noticed the first shaft buried in its thick neck; she'd lifted and fired, again and again, until finally one hit a vital spot and the creature fell backwards, leaving the crushed Warden bleeding on the ground.

If anybody had done enough to deserve the truth by now, it was Jaiden.

"I lied. About why I left Orlais." The elf opened one eye, looking up at her not with suspicion, but with interest and slight amusement.

"I assumed there was something you weren't telling me. So, how did you end up in Lothering?" Leliana steeled herself.

"I –I came to Ferelden because I was being hunted."

"Oh?" Jaiden's eyebrows raised a fraction, but there was no other indication of how she might feel about this. "Who was hunting you?"

Leliana swallowed. "The Orlesian authorities." The scars on her back seemed to burn with the memories; the two slash marks on her wrists stood as testament to the time she had been truly broken. "I was framed. Betrayed, by somebody I knew, and thought I could trust. Marjolaine." The name tasted like ash in her mouth; choking, bitter, vile. She could still remember the woman looking on her kindly that night before bidding her farewell, giving no indication that it was the last time they would speak. "She was my mentor, and my friend. She taught me the bardic arts, how to enchant with song, to carry myself like a high-born lady, to blend in as a servant. The skills I learnt, I used to serve her, because I enjoyed it…and I loved her."

Jaiden's mouth thinned, but she said nothing, and gestured for Leliana to continue. Both her eyes were open now, and fixed on the bard's face.

"It was…you could say it was my fault. There was a man I was sent to kill. I was to bring Marjolaine everything he carried." How easy it had been back then. It was not even the first time she had carried out such a task, but there had been something in Marjolaine's stance, a tension that Leliana was not accustomed to seeing, and curiosity mingled with no little fear had driven her to disobey her orders.

"I found sealed documents on his body. My curiosity got the better of me. Something told me I had to know what was in those letters." Jaiden quirked an eyebrow at her. "Marjolaine – had been selling Orlesian information to other countries. Nevarra and Antiva among others. It was treason."

"Isn't that what bards do?" Jaiden's confused question made Leliana wince. She had been so casual, back then, and wouldn't have thought twice about it normally. What had prompted her to act that night?

"Some. But I had assumed Marjolaine only operated within Orlais. It was an unhappy surprise for me." Her stomach clenched in a mirror of her reaction as she had skimmed the documents, her eyes wide with fear as the reality of the situation sunk in. "My concern was not that she was a traitor, but that her life would be in danger if she was caught. Orlais has been at war with so many countries, it takes a harsh view of such things – as I later discovered."

"What do you mean?" Leliana felt Jaiden's body become almost rigid with anger, and she caught Jaiden's hand again, patting the back of it.

"Relax. You'll hurt yourself if you get too tense." She looked away. "Perhaps this was a bad time –I should have waited until you were well."

"Too late. You're going to finish telling me." The Warden had adopted the hard expression she used when addressing heavy-handed merchants or people who had dared look down on her for being an elf, and Leliana could understand why it was so effective. Her will was wavering a little, but Jaiden's hand caught hers again, the pressure reassuring. "Please?"

"I had to tell Marjolaine I feared for her life. She was angry with me for opening the letters, but brushed aside my concern, saying that it was all in the past. I believed her. I accepted it when she told me she wished to destroy the documents herself, and handed them over. I kept believing it until the moment I was dragged from my bed and a guard shoved the papers in my face – altered by Marjolaine's hand, to make me look the traitor."

She was shaking violently now, trying to force the words out, determined to clear her slate. The lump in her throat choked her and tears began to spill down her cheeks. Jaiden, wincing, pulled herself upright and wrapped her arms awkwardly around Leliana's shoulders, and the bard leaned into the hold without thinking. Leliana gasped the words through her sobs, remembering the horrors of the Orlesian dungeons.

"They captured me…did terrible things to me, to make me confess and reveal my conspirators…it was a traitor's punishment, and at the end all that awaited me was eternity in an unmarked g-grave…" Jaiden's arms held her firmly, reminding her of where she was, stopping her mind from dragging her back to that place, the men standing around her, awaiting their turn with the tools at their disposal. Leliana twisted to look at Jaiden's face. The elf's eyes were looking somewhere in the middle distance, burning with rage.

Leliana had known since the night beside Lake Calenhad that she would share her story with Jaiden one day. She had hoped for better circumstances, but it was out, and she wasn't sure what reaction to expect from the Warden. No, that wasn't true; she had expected awkward sympathy, empty platitudes, or discomfort from the Warden at these revelations. Instead, Jaiden's grip on her tightened as she struggled to control her anger.

"Bitch." Jaiden's voice was a snarl. "Did you seek her out, this…Marjolaine?"

Leliana had heard that name uttered a variety of ways; with praise, with lust, with fear, with respect. Never as Jaiden said it, with outright disgust, and it made the woman seem less frightening, somehow. The bard lifted herself from Jaiden's grasp, wiping away her tears and breathing steadily until she had regained herself.

"No. Survival was my only concern at the time. The skills she taught me were good for something, at least. I broke free when I saw the opportunity. If I'd tried to go after her, she just would have had me caught again."

"And so you came to Ferelden." Jaiden gritted her teeth, wincing again. The pain of sitting upright had got to the Warden and Leliana helped her lie back carefully.

"Yes. I kept running southwards long after I crossed the border, terrified with every moment that she was watching me, that at any time she could simply snap her fingers and have me dragged away again. Even now I still think – sometimes…I will never truly be rid of her. I finally collapsed in Lothering, where the Revered Mother found me and took me in. Ferelden protected my person, and the chantry saved my soul." She took a deep breath. "And that is the real reason I am here. No more lies between us. At least in this."

Jaiden blew out a breath. "And I thought I had some demons." She looked up at Leliana, a small furrow between her eyebrows. "You're very brave."

"I…" Leliana could not have been more surprised by the statement. "…no, I am not. Not really. I just …did not want to give up."

"Isn't that bravery?" Jaiden would not break the gaze, and Leliana was caught in the snare of those green eyes again. "To lose everything, and keep going. Maker's mercy, if _I'd_ ended up in the dungeons-" her mouth snapped shut and something in the elf's face closed off, leaving behind a mask

"Yes?"

"…nothing."

_Give her time_, Leliana told herself. Jaiden had not pushed her for the truth about her departure from Orlais, and the bard would extend the same courtesy regarding the Warden's secrets. After a few moments, the elf's expression softened, and she lifted a hand and stroked Leliana's cheek, brushing away the last traces of tears. The bard leaned in to the contact again, grateful – her tale had implied thievery, deceit, and assassination on her part, but Jaiden's rage had been directed entirely at her former bard master.

"Thank you for trusting me with this." The elf's eyes were still fixed on hers, and Leliana suddenly felt something…_shift_, within her. It was a sensation she had not experienced in a very long time, and she struggled to place it – before she could, however, the cellar door creaked open, and a voice drifted across to them.

"Jaiden?" Alistair had returned. He had a few new scratches across his face, and was looking between them with an expression that bordered on suspicion. His fellow Warden lowered her hand quickly, struggling to shift enough to face him. "What's going on?" He lifted his eyes to Leliana's face, and the bard realised that she probably still showed evidence of her tears. "Leli, are you all right?"

_When did he start calling me Leli?_

"Just fine, Alistair." She gave him a rueful smile. "Jaiden was just helping me get something off my chest."

She did not expect him to shoot a baleful look at Jaiden; the elf tensed, and hissed in pain at the pressure on her sore muscles. Nonetheless, the two Wardens kept their gaze on each other, some silent exchange taking place that Leliana could not decipher. Finally, Alistair shot her an awkward smile, and Jaiden relaxed. The templar came to kneel beside her, scratching the back of his head.

"There's… a problem, in the cellars," he murmured. "We cleared out the darkspawn, and there are some villagers down there who were hiding behind a magical wall. The leader's daughter has run off, and he wants us to go after her."

"And will he offer us anything for our endeavour?" Morrigan called across, looking annoyed.

"Any luck?"

"None. Either the control rod is broken or the activation phrase is wrong."

"About that-" Alistair said. "I mentioned the golem to the guy in the cellars. He can trade us the correct phrase for his daughter's safe return."

"Finally, a fair trade for our services." Morrigan went towards the cellars without so much as a backwards glance. Alistair pulled a face at her departing form.

"Anyway. I really think you need to be down there, Jaiden."

"Why?" It was Leliana who challenged him, amazed that the templar would dare suggest that Jaiden even try moving more than a few steps. He looked taken aback at the aggressiveness of her tone, and struggled for an answer.

"I…well…erm…" he lowered his voice to a whisper. "Don't tell Morrigan – but I'm scared. Something doesn't feel right down there. I think we need more people, and we can't leave you alone up here."

Jaiden groaned, propping herself up. "Ugh. Fine." Leliana bent to give her hand up, and helped her as the elf strapped her sword harness around her torso, directly over the bandages. She did not appear ecstatic at the idea of leaving her cuirass behind, but with the gambeson split the armour would chafe horribly, and Alistair pointed that she probably wouldn't even be able to walk with the weight of the full set on her shoulders.

"Right. Let's go find this girl."

* * *

All things considered, it had gone quite well, sudden burns aside. The fight with the demon had not posed too much of a problem, with the fights in the Circle Tower still fresh in the Warden's mind. Amalia had been safely returned, and as he promised, Mattias had given them the password to awaken the golem, although not without dire warnings about his father's fate at the construct's hands. Morrigan was still annoyed that the control rod no longer actually controlled the golem, something for which Jaiden was grateful. She wouldn't have given much for Alistair's chances of survival had the Wilder witch been able to order the golem about at will.

Shale, to her surprise, had a personality of sorts, albeit one that was entirely too fond of 'squishing' things. On the way out of the village she had nearly jumped out of her skin at a startled squawk, and turned around to see Shale with bloodied feathers stuck to his hands, shrugging. However, provided the golem did not take it into his head to do the same to any of them, Jaiden could live with it.

She was far more concerned about Alistair. Since he had come to fetch them, he had been shifted between looking awkward and – the expression was deeply unsettling on the templar – venomous. He had helped set up camp in silence, and when Leliana had sat down to begin her share of the dinner duties he had immediately sat close beside her, shooting Jaiden a pointed look as he did so. Then his eyes drifted to the bandages still crossing her torso, and he looked guilty, turning away.

The male Warden was ridiculously easy to read. The present of the lute in Denerim had been his first step in attempting to court the bard, and while she chattered and laughed with him easily enough, Jaiden could detect no answering flirtatiousness in Leliana's demeanour. Either she did not feel the same way, or she had picked up on the strained dynamic between the Wardens and was attempting to keep the peace by hiding her own feelings.

Actually, thinking about it, Alistair had been especially on edge since leaving Denerim. Wynne had filled her in on what had happened with his sister, and Jaiden's heart ached for her fellow Warden. She could understand why he would search so desperately for something resembling the love he had experienced while trapped in the Fade – love which, by the sound of it, he had never experienced in real life. As least she had once had her family. It was only natural he would gravitate towards the bard; although she was not nearly so soft and pure as they had once assumed, she was still a beautiful person with a lilting laugh and a wonderful way of calming Jaiden's soul with just a look. And those lips -

The elf shook her head, trying to force away the images before they could become truly stuck in her head. Alistair had stood up and was starting to walk towards her, and she fought for some composure. To her relief, he did not appear about to challenge her; he rested a hand on her shoulder, looking concerned.

"Are you all right?"

"Mm." Her ribs still ached like a Fade demon was dancing on them and she doubted she was going to sleep well. Her shoulder itched where one of the elven darkspawn – which she'd ended up dubbing _shrieks_ – had managed to sink a scythed arm several inches into the flesh. It had been a matter of seconds for Wynne to heal, but didn't stop the elder mage from scolding Jaiden for going into the cellar in the first place. "Sore. But I'll heal."

Alistair shifted from foot to foot, looking as though he was on the verge of saying something. After a few seconds, he managed it. "Do you remember what you said…when we spoke about my sister?"

Jaiden nodded, warily. She had tried to offer some consolation towards her fellow Warden, but only ended up irritating him by telling him that he needed to stand up for himself more.

"You were right. I'm sorry I doubted you about that." Alistair scratched his chin. "I need to stop letting everyone else make my decisions for me. I didn't leave that basement because I thought our group couldn't handle it. I did it because I was scared to make the decision to go after the girl when I had no idea what was down there."

Jaiden was surprised at his honesty. Neither of them had made any bones about being scared of the task that lay before them, but Alistair was usually a little more reserved than this. He was standing taller now, his eyes looking over her head. "I need to think about myself for a change, or I'm never going to be happy."

"Well – that's good." It was – Alistair definitely deserved to have at least a modicum of happiness, considering how well he bore his burden, but Jaiden was beginning to get a crawling sensation in her gut. She was pretty certain where this was headed.

"I'm glad you agree." Alistair looked back to the campfire and the bard, smiling openly. "I was just worried, for a moment…" he didn't need to continue, and after a moment excused himself to return to his seat.

Jaiden turned away from the others, heading into her tent, and knelt carefully, trying not to hurt herself any further. Slowly, she dug her knuckles into her forehead, gritting her teeth and wondering why it felt like she'd been stepped on all over again.

**O**

**Argh, this chapter. I'm a little ashamed of it, but it's necessary. **


	14. Fight In The Mountains

**A short chapter, this time; Chapter 15 is half-written already and is turning into a monster of a one, so hopefully that'll make up for this. Thank you again to all reviewers, Faves and Story Alerts; you keep me happy and trundling along!**

**-Genjutsu-Dragon**

**O**

Jaiden dropped her blades to the floor with a clatter and wiped the back of her hand against her forehead, panting. Wynne went around the rest of the companions, exhausted but still reaching for the dregs of her magic to heal them. Alistair and Leliana were both looking around, at the blood that splattered the walls and floor of the Chantry, white as sheets. Sten slowly pulled his sword from the body of Father Eirik, the scraping, squelching noise a final note in the horrific fight they had suffered through since entering Haven.

They had got past the unwelcoming guard easily enough, but then Boy had gone haring off, coming back to seize Jaiden's hand and tug her to stand in front of one of the village houses. After a few moment's deliberation, they had broken in, and the hound's distress had become immediately apparent; at one end was a small altar, saturated in human blood. Zevran had touched his fingers to it and declared it to be relatively recent; it was congealed, but not yet black. Even his stomach had turned a little at the sight; the smell had been horrendous and flies clustered thickly in the surprising heat of the small, cramped hovel.

The moment they had stepped outside, the villagers had set on them.

It had been almost a pleasure for Zevran to watch how quickly Jaiden worked. She had immediately thrown down a smoke grenade, vanishing amongst the clouds and reappearing briefly on the back of the largest human, pulling his head back and slitting his throat within seconds, before melting into the shadows again. There had been mages, and the majority of their attackers were heavily armed and armoured, which was unexpected. What was worse was the group of completely unprotected villagers who had flung themselves without thought against the companions. Alistair had hesitated and caught a nasty blow across the head which affected his speed the rest of the way, dazed as he was.

After the first wave, it had been Leliana who had heard the singing coming from the Chantry, and as they headed up the hill more opponents came and were quickly cut down. The addition of the golem to the group was an incredible boon, but that didn't remove the fact that Zevran would happily go the rest of his days without seeing another person – or animal, even – crushed beneath those gigantic fists. It was far too reminiscent of what had nearly happened to Jaiden.

The Father had not been particularly welcoming, either. After a heated exchange between him and Jaiden, he had set the rest of his followers on them. It was a tight space for combat, and completely unsuitable for Sten, who appeared to struggle with keeping his swordwork tight and not tripping over any of the pews. Zevran and Jaiden, of course, were used to fighting in such conditions, and made quick work of most of the guards, but it was a hard fight, and they had still not been able to ascertain the whereabouts of Brother Genetivi.

"Zevran, are you all right?" Wynne was approaching him now, and he pushed aside his weariness to give her his usual glib smile.

"All the better, knowing that you and your magical bosom are here to assist me." He didn't even try dodging the slap she aimed at the back of his head.

"Shall I take that as a no?" He nodded, wincing, as she swept off muttering something under her breath. His eyes slid past her, to the bookshelves lining the walls, the statues and candles, the carved arch into the solid stone-

_That's odd._

Jaiden had left her blades lying in the rapidly drying blood as she went off to explore a side-section of the Chantry, and Leliana bent to pick them up and place them on the altar. Zevran saw her murmur a surreptitious prayer, backing away before the elf returned. The bard was careful to keep her beliefs quiet, for the most part, perhaps knowing that Jaiden did not respond well to most subjects concerning religion, but that didn't stop her uttering the odd thanks for the Warden's continued survival.

Alistair was watching her, looking torn between confusion and desire. The templar could not be more obvious in his affections if he walked into the bard's tent one night stark naked, but Leliana either remained oblivious or was very skilled at demurral. That tensions seemed to be on the rise between the Wardens had not escaped the Crow, and it did not take much to guess that the cause. Jaiden didn't appear to have realised yet the amount of time the bard spent with her was due to more than their growing friendship, and from what Zevran had observed, Leliana was not too certain on her own feelings either. Alistair and Jaiden were still like siblings – close, companionable, always willing to share an abominable joke or two – but if there was one thing Zevran had observed in his times as an assassin, it was that one of the most common emotions between related parties was jealousy.

He broke off his musings, going to examine the curious archway that apparently lead into nowhere. The stone was a different colour from that which the rest of the Chantry was built, and as he ran his fingers across it the texture was different; smooth, as though touched by hundreds of hands over the years until the rough surface wore away. He pressed down.

The stone slid back and aside with an almighty grating noise, making the rest of the party jump as a hidden room was revealed. Zevran sighed happily. "It is true – I am ridiculously awesome." A few quick paces into the room lifted his spirits even further. Lying on the floor, battered but not broken, was a man who could only be Brother Genetivi.

Wynne was by his side in an instant, magic already reaching out to start knitting his wounds together. Jaiden knelt on his other side, and he looked up at her with quiet amusement.

"Well…when I prayed to the Maker for rescue, this is not quite what I expected." He winced. "Ugh…you've no idea how glad I am to see somebody who isn't from this village." He forced himself into an upright position; Zevran noted the involuntary spasm of pain that passed through the man. He was being surprisingly controlled about it. "The leg's not doing so well - and I can't feel my foot."

Wynne produced some bandages and a vial of powerful painkiller from her pack and set to work, as Jaiden began questioning the man.

"We're looking for the Urn of Sacred Ashes." She removed her own pack, digging into it until they found the book of notes they had retrieved from the house in Denerim. She handed it to Genetivi, who hugged it to his chest like a treasured child. "We were directed to look for you, and these indicated that you were exploring Haven. Have you had any luck?"

"Luck? Depends on the definition." Genetivi gritted his teeth as the last of the healing took place. "I have been successful, however – the Ashes are just up the mountain."

Zevran was not the only one who raised an eyebrow. As far as he had been able to tell, Jaiden had not really believed in the existence of Andraste – let alone the Ashes or their healing power – at all, but had gone along with it as far as she could in effort to show willing. "How do you know this?"

"My research led me here and I heard the villagers talking. The Urn is here." He swatted Wynne away, who was trying to get him to lie back down. "There is an old temple further up, built with the sole purpose of protecting Andraste's remains. The door is always locked, but through a bit of prying which eventually got me caught, I know where the key is. Father Eirik keeps it around his neck; it looks like a medallion."

"Ah – is this it?" Leliana held out her hand, revealing a necklace with an odd bronze pendant shaped like a slightly blocky Sword of Mercy. Of course, the bard was always reasonably efficient about looting, after she had done her religious duties. An amusing facet of her personality. Genetivi nodded.

"Take me to the mountainside and I can show you how to open the door with it."

"Brother, you desperately need rest." Wynne's tone, if addressed to any of their party, would brook no quarrel. But Genetivi was determined, and began hauling himself to his feet.

"I have searched all my life for this. I will not give up now." He turned his eyes back to Jaiden. "It is not that far…would you let me lean on you?"

It still surprised Zevran that most of the people they had met deferred to the elven Warden. Alistair looked far more like a leader, especially since he had gained his silverite plate in Denerim; the only reason people didn't automatically assume that Sten presided over the group was that no Ferelden would answer to a qunari, unless they were part of a mercenary group. There was more authority about Jaiden, perhaps, than sat on any of their shoulders, and so people always looked to her, although sometimes with a noticeable sneer. Of course, the deceptively sweet-looking face didn't hurt; her scar had already faded to white when they had met, but it was still there, slightly jarring, like a crack in a mirror; but it did not detract overmuch from the pale, slightly freckled skin, or those large, pale green eyes.

Jaiden nodded, bending down to lift the man, betraying the strength that was gradually building in the young Warden. Her injuries after the ogre attack had taken around a week to clear up, and cost them a fair bit of time, much to Jaiden's annoyance. Nonetheless, she had recovered well, and hoisted Genetivi with only a tiny grunt of exertion.

"Jaiden, are you sure you don't want me to do that?" Alistair, trying to help, but his fellow Warden shook her head.

"I'm fine. Let's get going." Jaiden turned, missing the put-out expression on the templar's face. Slowly, she began leading the way out of the Chantry.

Genetivi had been true in his words; it was not far up the mountain, for which Zevran was thankful. The temperature was dropping fast and he was immensely grateful for his gloves; the hilt of his dagger would have taken skin with it otherwise. Morrigan was leaning heavily on her staff, plainly in need of a rest but too proud to say anything, and Wynne was looking a little worse for the wear as well. But with the promise of the Ashes so close, Jaiden had become intent as a hound on the trail, and would likely not stop until they started dropping around her.

The doors to the temple were surprisingly austere – simply designed and wide instead of high, probably allowing three people to pass abreast. Provided one of them wasn't Sten or Shale, anyway. Once they were pushed open, however, it was apparent that the temple itself was anything but.

It was _vast_. The ceiling was so high overhead that Zevran could barely see it. Light poured in through windows many times larger than any he had seen in the noble houses of Antiva. Drifts of snow sparkled against the elaborately carved columns. There were friezes along the walls, fantastically detailed depictions of scenes he vaguely recognised as being from the story of creation. At the far end, there were steps leading up to another set of doors, and a large brazier sat in the centre of the hall. Leading off the sides in periodic intervals were more corridors.

Genetivi sagged on Jaiden's shoulder.

"This…oh, what I wouldn't give to see this in all its glory." With effort, he pushed himself up, limping over to examine one of the murals on the wall. "Just look at this." Zevran had not heard anyone breathe with such reverence as this man in a very long time. He smirked. The last occasion hadn't exactly been a religious experience, although the Maker's name had been invoked a number of times.

Jaiden was still wary, her eyes scanning the hall for any sign of danger. "I think we'd better take our time to explore the side corridors. Just in case." Sten grumbled but made no other sign of dissent, and with a warning to Genetivi to keep safe they ventured down the first to the left.

* * *

"Stop! You will go no further!"

Alistair was quite happy to comply with the man's demand. His entire body ached from the fight they had gone through every step of the way into the temple. Cultists, mages, dragonlings, drakes, even a bronto at one point – Maker alone knew what _that_ was doing up here. Then there were the ash wraiths, the remains of which had coated the inside of every throat and left them all coughing violently, along with the red welts that had been left behind by every touch. Jaiden was beginning to resemble a half-crazed scarecrow, her hair matted with blood and ash, streaks of sweat cutting lines through the grime covering her face. Alistair was willing to bet that he didn't look too well off either. He was so exhausted that even blinking hurt; his lips were painfully chapped from the cold – stick-your-tongue-to-a-lamppost-temperature, he'd joked to Jaiden earlier, much to the bemusement of the others. It seemed like years ago.

He cast a glance towards Leliana. She had largely escaped the worst of the damage, along with the mages, but still looked on the point of collapsing. Several times she had been forced to drop her bow and resort to her daggers, and while he'd done his best on every occasion to go across and defend her, she had still managed to accumulate a few gashes. Unthinkingly, he lifted his hand to her shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. She smiled at him, but her blue eyes lacked their usual sparkle – she was paying close attention towards the man who had introduced himself as Father Kolgrim, and the exchange he was having with Jaiden.

"Know this, stranger." Kolgrim's voice was a low growl as he lowered his head to stare Jaiden directly in the eye. "The Prophet Andraste has overcome death and returned to her faithful in a form more radiant than you could imagine!"

Zevran laughed openly, drawing glares in his direction, but as usual the elf did not seem to care. "Oh, this is good. Based on what we have seen so far, I would assume that she's become a dragon now, yes?"

"She is so much more! She is even more glorious than all the Old Gods combined!"

"Hush, Zevran." Jaiden made a downward motion with her hand as Kolgrim bristled. "I would like to see this…risen Andraste."

"Only the worthy may look upon her!" Alistair's hand went to his hilt; the man seemed to be getting riled up again and he prepared himself to cast a mana drain upon the mages. Just as quickly, however, Kolgrim's wrath subsided, and he stroked his chin thoughtfully. "But perhaps…there is a way to make up for your transgressions."

Alistair didn't like the sound of that.

Neither did Jaiden, from the suspicious tone of her voice. "Why do you suddenly want to co-operate with us?"

Kolgrim smiled in a manner that made Alistair's teeth clench. "Maybe because I believe in second chances. All stumble through the darkness, before being shown the light. Perhaps Andraste's greatest enemy will become her greatest champion."

"I sincerely doubt that," Morrigan murmured, but wisely kept her voice low enough for only their group to hear.

Jaiden was still meeting Kolgrim's gaze warily. "Just say what you have to say."

Alistair had been brought up with the teachings of the Chantry all his life. While a great deal of it had never really taken, there was no doubt in his mind that what Kolgrim was suggesting was the most blasphemous thing he'd ever heard. Defiling the Ashes…for people who had killed any pilgrims who had come up to pay tribute. His mind clouded with rage and he took two swift steps forward, catching Jaiden by the shoulder and pulling her around.

"Please, please don't tell me you're considering this."

Jaiden smiled beatifically up at him, so maddeningly self-assured that he felt like shaking her. She put a hand over the one on her shoulder. "Alistair. Trust me."

Something inside him rebelled at her words, but knowing he couldn't question her further in front of Kolgrim, he pulled his hand away sharply and stepped back. Jaiden turned back to the Father. "It seems we have an agreement."

"Very well. I will speak to Andraste on your behalf, and she will let you pass." He held out a vial of dark red liquid, and Alistair's stomach lurched at the sight of it. Jaiden kept that aggravating smile on her face as she accepted it and tucked it amongst her belongings.

Kolgrim turned away and Alistair bent forward to whisper in Jaiden's ear. "You're not really going to do this, are you?"

"Of course not," she muttered. "But if there's a dragon in the way I'd rather he got eaten first and left us time to get into the right part of the temple."

That was fair enough, although he still didn't like that she'd spoken to him like a parent wheedling a sulky child into co-operating. Annoyed, he followed her out of the opening onto the mountainside, wincing as the wintery light shone directly in his eyes. The surrounding mountain range sparkled in the sunshine; the sky was beautifully clear compared to the heavy grey clouds that had hovered over the village, and it occurred to him that they must have climbed over a thousand feet while battling their way through the caverns. No wonder it felt like his legs were ready to fold under him.

Trying to summon up a little of his usual drollness, he turned to smile at his companions. "You know, it's really quite pretty up-"

A deafening roar cut him off and he stepped back several paces as the dragon swept over his head.

_Oh holy Maker that thing's big._

Not just a dragon, but a High Dragon. He was suddenly very glad that Jaiden had not chosen to kill Kolgrim and his followers outright. From the shaky laugh Leliana emitted once the monster had swept out of sight, he was not the only one trying really hard not to just run back into the safety of the mountain.

"They say music soothes the savage beast, but I don't think I'll be the one to test that theory."

"Well, I'm sure you could manage it." The compliment rose to his lips unbidden; she graced him with a smile, but he couldn't really fault Jaiden for snapping at him.

"Could you please cut the flirting?" Her voice was tense; the reality of the dragon appeared to have shaken her quite badly, and up here, surrounded with cultists and no knowledge of what lay ahead except a guardian who was evidently capable of preventing every one of the maniacs from breaking through, she couldn't predict how events were going to unfold.

That didn't stop his cheeks from flushing red, however.

Slowly, they followed Kolgrim along the path; he marched confidently, Jaiden crept in his shadow with the same soft-footedness Alistair had observed in Denerim. There were no crowds to obscure her here, however; if the dragon left its perch, the elf would likely be one of the first things it saw. The knowledge that it could probably swallow Jaiden whole was not something Alistair wanted to dwell on.

_Almost there…_

They were with yards of the ornate doors when a rattling sound drew his attention upwards. Jaiden was already back-pedalling frantically, drawing her weapons, and Alistair felt his stomach lurch as he realised what was happening. But already Kolgrim was running straight toward the dragon, even as it belched fire along the ground, and for a moment Alistair thought that the cultist would be enveloped in the flame. Kolgrim fell to his knees, speaking to the dragon, and Alistair cast about, wondering how Jaiden would deploy them for the fight, how fast he would have to run, where to strike without getting struck by a leg or buffeted by a wing.

And then, by some miracle, the monster was gone. Kolgrim was back on his feet, smiling broadly at them.

"The way is clear. Go and show yourself to be Andraste's true champion."

Jaiden gave him a curt nod, and began striding towards the doors. Alistair followed close behind, rolling his shoulders and trying to ignore the fatigue that rested heavy on his shoulders.

**O**

**Quick apology for the lack of original dialogue in this chapter and the next, but it's pretty important for character insight. **


	15. The Trials of the Gauntlet

**Whew. This took a while to write. Apologies for the delay, as with end-of-term commitments and some outside work, I wasn't able to give this my full attention until a couple of days ago. Hope this makes up for it.**

**-Genjutsu-Dragon-**

**O**

"I bid you welcome, pilgrim."

The Guardian graced them with a gentle smile. His eyes were benevolent and while the large maul strapped to his back indicated that he could probably take them all apart without much effort, Leliana doubted he would actually lift it against them unless they gave him serious reason to do so.

Say, for example, tipping dragon blood into Andraste's Ashes.

She looked to Jaiden, allowing the faith she had in their leader to flow through her. _She won't do it._

The elf was talking with the Guardian, and she forced herself to pay attention. Jaiden was questioning him at length about the passage of the Ashes from Tevinter to Ferelden, and about his role in defending them from the cultists. It had to be hard for her to accept; but at least she was trying to remain reverent, here. After the chaos of the caverns, the tranquillity of this place was a little unnerving. Finally, the Guardian held up a hand to silence the Warden's questions.

"You have come to honour Andraste, and you shall. If you prove yourself worthy."

"So…I have to fight you?" Jaiden's shoulders slumped a little; she probably would not survive such an encounter, wearied as she was. To Leliana's relief, the Guardian shook his head.

"It is not my place to decide your worthiness. The Gauntlet does that." He fixed his gaze on Jaiden's. "You will undergo four tests of faith, and we will see how your soul fares."

"Um. I'm not exactly a person of faith." Jaiden ran her fingers through her hair. "I only really believe in the Maker, and to say I'm not a fan is an understatement."

"Faith is not about hatred or love, but belief itself. If you wish to find the Ashes, you will undergo these trials." He offered the tiniest of smiles. "You travel with others who can help you. As Andraste was aided in her quest by those around her, so you may be."

Jaiden turned around. "I guess we'll have to leave at least a couple of you behind, then." She was looking between Morrigan and Sten, neither of whom seemed put out by this decision. Shale simply couldn't fit through the door, which left him off the list. When the elf's gaze swung around to Leliana, Jaiden gave her a broad grin. Leliana smiled back, feeling lighter, suddenly; Jaiden had faith in _her_, which was something, at least. "I can definitely count on you. Alistair?"

"Hey, I'm a chantry boy," he replied cheerfully. "Getting to see a relic even the Grand Cleric hasn't seen? It'll be worth it just imagining her apoplectic reaction to the letter I'm going to send."

"I'll second that. Wynne? Zev?"

"Absolutely. I wouldn't miss this opportunity for the world." The weariness seemed to have fallen away from Wynne, and she looked forward with eyes shining. The strange, soft aura that filled the air seemed to be lending new life to the group; Leliana was beginning to feel revitalised, the ache in her shoulders and back fading away and replaced with exuberance at the task ahead. She could hear something, a faint note in the air, like a small bell that sustained a sound long after it had been struck.

"I doubt the Maker has much love lost for me, _cara_," was Zevran's response. "But I will go, out of curiosity. After all, there are a lot of people will pay handsomely for information about this Gauntlet."

Leliana bristled at the idea of him charging money for such a thing, but Jaiden evidently saw it as a poor attempt at a joke and rolled her eyes. She turned back to the Guardian. "Right. Let's get this over with."

"Before you go, there is something I must ask." His eyes were unsettling shade of ice-blue, Leliana noticed, and they were firmly fixed on Jaiden. "I see that the path that led you here was not easy. There was suffering in your past; your suffering, and the suffering of others."

An instinct rose in Leliana to clap her hands over Jaiden's ears as the elf tensed, but she couldn't move.

"By the time you reached Shianni, she was brutalised, broken. You were too late. "

Jaiden looked as though the Guardian had struck her. The cheer that had begun to infuse her dissipated in an instant, and she made a choked noise in her throat.

"Tell me, pilgrim – did you fail Shianni?"

"I…" she seemed to be struggling, to speak, and had to swallow a few times. "…Yes. I shouldn't have let him take her in the first place."

The Guardian looked at her with sympathy. "I see your remorse and your pain, scarred into your heart – as well as forever on your skin." Jaiden's head dropped forward and she covered her face with her hands.

It was not hard to guess what had happened to Shianni, whoever she was. Leliana recognised the agony that tightened Jaiden's body from that night beside the Tower – that crushing, inescapable guilt. She stepped forward, taking Jaiden's hand and interlacing her fingers with the elf's, making her look around. "You should never blame yourself for such things." Jaiden looked at her with such pain in her eyes that Leliana's heart almost shattered. She could hear the others speaking, offering their words to Jaiden, but the roaring in her ears drowned it out.

It was as though all the layers of Jaiden had been stripped away and Leliana could see the core of the elf's being; the hurt and shame she carried with her every day, hidden away because she felt she had to be strong for the rest of them. There had been a hint of it, in Denerim, but Jaiden's face had been veiled by her hair as she wept, not allowing any of them to see how truly frightened she was.

A surge of emotion that startled Leliana swept through all her, a much stronger reaction than her first night in camp, watching Jaiden struggle gasping back into consciousness. She wanted to wrap the elf in her arms and never let go, to shelter and protect her from everything that was happening, and promise that nobody would hurt her again.

Obviously she could never say these things. Not only was it a ridiculous promise to make in the middle of a Blight, but such an impassioned declaration, even from her, would almost certainly be met with ridicule.

After a few moments, Jaiden gave her a weak smile and squeezed her hand. The Guardian began to glow."The way is open. May you find what you seek." He vanished in a burst of light, and the door flew open.

Leliana tried to summon something to say to Jaiden, but there were no words, and after a moment the Warden shook herself and began to walk forwards. "Let's go."

* * *

The room was almost as big as the entrance hall of the temple had been. A strange hush pervaded the air, along with a strong tingling sensation that was a clear indication of magic. Leliana felt her mind being lulled into a state of tranquillity, even as she wondered at the glowing forms stood at regular intervals along the walls. The large doors at the other end were shut, and as this was the Gauntlet, it seemed fairly clear that whatever they had to do to open them involved these spirits. Jaiden and Alistair looked at the glowing forms with caution; Wynne, with an expression that was close to marvel. Zevran was unreadable.

Slowly, Jaiden walked over to the first spirit, which began to speak as she approached.

"_A small lark could carry it, as a strong man might not."_ The voice was as ethereal as the person, and seemed to sound from all around them.

Leliana reacted instinctively. "A tune." The smile the girl graced her with struck her heart; a vision of love and sorrow.

"_Yes. I was Andraste's dearest friend in childhood, and always we would sing. She celebrated the beauty of life, and all who heard Her would be filled with joy. They say the Maker Himself was moved by Andraste's song, and then she spoke no more of simple things."_ With that, the vision vanished. Leliana stared at the place it had stood. Somehow, she knew that even as an old woman, she would remember this.

Provided she lived that long.

Jaiden's expression had moved from conflicted to resolute, now, and Leliana knew that the elf was attempting to put what this all meant to the back of her mind. Whatever exactly was in Jaiden's thoughts right now remained a mystery, and they moved forward, answering the riddles the others offered them. Vengeance, mercy, motherhood, jealousy, desperation. Less abstractly, the mountains, and the longing of the elves for a home. The Warden let the others guess at the riddles, her quiet somehow sounding louder to Leliana than the voices of the ghosts. It was only near the end, as they reached the doors, that she had an answer.

"No man has seen it, but all men know it. Lighter than air, sharper than any sword, comes from nothing, but will fell the strongest armies. Of what do I speak?"

Alistair looked to Leliana and she ran the riddle through her mind again. Lighter, sharper, from nothing…

"Hunger." The elf's eyes were distant, some memory written on her face. The figure in the robes nodded, explaining the role of hunger in Andraste's story, but this time Leliana didn't listen. The doors flew open, and Jaiden started towards the archway, already putting the moment behind her. Leliana scuttled after her, wondering if there was anything she could say. To ask about the hollow look that had appeared on Jaiden's face at the idea of hunger…where could she start? The elves had always been poor in Ferelden, and Zevran had mentioned how the alienages were always worst hit during foot shortages. Another surge of that protective feeling swept through her at the thought of a young Jaiden, cold and hungry, huddled in a broken-down home.

The Warden's sudden intake of breath broke her from her reverie.

There was a figure standing at the end of the hallway. Leliana pulled an arrow from her quiver, preparing to nock it to her bow, but the sight of Jaiden's face made her halt. The Warden walked with uneven footsteps towards the apparition, who was turning slowly to meet them. Another elf? Here?

Jaiden stretched out a trembling hand and the other elf took it, apparently solid despite the translucency of her form. Leliana looked from one to another, taking in the similar shade of hair, the same nose, exactly the same high cheekbones. The strange elf was dressed in tattered attire that must have been reasonably fine, once; now it was splattered with blood.

Leliana winced. It seemed the Guardian's question hadn't been enough; the Gauntlet had another round of punishment for their leader.

"…Shianni…"

"Who else?" The apparition spoke softly; one hand gently petting the Warden's hair. "It's good to see you, cousin." Her mouth twisted in a rueful smile as Jaiden lifted her head. The Warden's jaw was clenched, but she seemed determined not to fall apart again; a tender hand cupped her cheek, and she relaxed. A little. "Life out there's been good to you, hasn't it? You're respected, even amongst humans."

"I suppose it has." Jaiden smiled wistfully. She looked back at the rest of the group.

Was it Leliana's imagination, or had the Warden given only her that tiny smile?

"Do you still think about her…about us? Where you came from, and what some of us still face every day?" Jaiden let out a long breath.

"All the time."

"What happened…it wasn't really your fault. You were caught in the situation, just like the rest of us. You were so brave. Soris told me you were fighting back when he arrived; trying to kill armed guards with your bare hands. You didn't give up, even when it was hopeless." The apparition pressed something into Jaiden's hands. "I want you to have this." She smiled, softly. "Seeing you now gives me hope. For all of us." With that, Shianni's form faded away.

Jaiden stood immobile for a few moments, staring at the spot where her cousin had been, fist clenched tightly around the talisman. To Leliana's surprise, it was Alistair who stepped forward first, carefully unfolding the Warden's fingers from around the necklace and fastening it around her neck. Leliana knew that the templar had regretted not being able to do more to save Duncan, and whatever had been setting the Wardens on edge for the last few weeks seemed to subside for now, as they recognised the same helplessness in each other. Alistair cleared his throat.

"So you…you were defending your cousin. That was why you were recruited – you killed people trying to save her."

"Yes." Jaiden tucked the pendant beneath her armour, to lie alongside her ever-present Warden's Oath. "There's more to it, but that's how Duncan ended up recruiting me. I was on the point of being arrested." _And probably would have died by inches in the torturer's hands_, went unspoken, and Leliana fought back bile. What Shianni had said indicated one major point that Jaiden had not talked about, and probably wouldn't unless provoked. The Warden cleared her throat. "We should get on."

* * *

It was another long trudge through the passageways of the temple before they came across the next test. They walked through the door and stared as Jaiden appeared at the opposite side of the room.

Leliana's eyes flicked to the Warden standing at her side, who was staring at this latest apparition in abject horror.

The false Jaiden was dressed in a finer version of the garments Shianni had been wearing. The hem was soaked with blood, and gore spattered her nearly from head to toe. There was a ring of flowers, broken and askew, caught in her hair, and her eyes were cold and furious.

The left side of her face was laid open nearly to the bone, and as they watched, more blood trickled out, staining her shoulder. She spoke.

"_Wasn't it sweet to hear the blood splattering along the floor? The sight of him crawling at your feet, begging as he trailed his guts, the terror in his eyes as you lifted your sword again. You enjoyed it. You _loved_ it."_ Jaiden put her hands over her ears and her double produced a sword, beginning a slow, predatory walk towards the Warden. _"Monster. You loved the blood, you always want more. Monsters should be killed. Lay out your neck for me."_

Jaiden's shoulders slumped, and she actually seemed about to obey for a moment. At the very last second, the Warden shifted one foot backwards and produced her weapons, that implacable mask slipping back into place. Leliana's attention on the bloodied Jaiden was swiftly broken, as another form appeared; herself.

This Leliana was younger, her face slightly haughty and her hair longer and more lustrous. She was armed with a bow that Leliana could not hope to bend these days, and when she called out, its voice was hers, but the accent was heavier and Leliana felt a sick twist as she realised how much her younger self had sounded like Marjolaine.

"_Hypocrite."_ The voice was a low hiss, creeping into Leliana's mind and making her muscles cramp with terror. _"Why pray to the Maker when you know it is your skill alone that has got you this far?"_ The lips parted in a smile that reminded Leliana of a venomous snake. _"You were nobody, nobody at all in the Chantry. And now you are somebody, using what you learned in Orlais. The Maker did not speak to you. It was you, your desperate longing to be here. Any excuse to get you out of there, trapped between those walls. You weren't content. You were bored." _

The reflections of Alistair, Zevran and Wynne had appeared now, but Leliana could not look. Her younger self hefted the bow from her back and lined it up with her; Leliana repeated the motion, both of them set to run sideways. The first arrow went flying from her double's bow, and Leliana launched herself away.

Around her, the rest of the group were facing their demons; but Leliana had no time to look at them. Her doppelganger was as spritely as she had been, in Orlais, before the brands and whips had left their marks. While the travel on the road had done a great deal to make up for that and two years without practice, this spirit was mercilessly fast. She could barely dodge the arrows while releasing her own, and one struck her, catching in the leathering padding covering her shoulder. It only cut the top layer of skin, but she hissed, distracted long enough for another to thud into her shin. She shrieked in agony, and the demon smiled as it aimed another for her heart.

"Incoming!" Zevran had dispatched his enemy with his customary swiftness, and Leliana briefly wondered what he had been taunted with; the elf was unusually pale and he helped Leliana drive her double into a corner without a fraction of his usual jocularity. His jaw was clenched, but beyond that she could detect no emotion in him. Her younger self had dropped the bow and pulled out her daggers with enviable smoothness, and Zevran gave a shout. "Now!"

Leliana's arrow found her double's throat. The apparition stumbled back and burst into nothing with an angry howl.

Alistair was still fighting his attacker; a grim-faced foe with grey streaks in his slightly longer hair, kitted out in full templar regalia. Leliana turned just in time to watch a brown-haired woman who appeared to be a youthful Wynne get blown to smithereens. The elder mage leaned on her staff for a moment and covered her eyes, and even amongst the noise the others were making Leliana thought she heard a single sob. And then she was all business again, sprinting over and carefully removing the arrow from Leliana's leg, tending to the wound.

The two Jaidens were clashing furiously, spinning around the room, blades meeting and feinting and striking so fast Leliana could barely follow them. What Jaiden had learned in skill, the double matched in madness, which leant unbelievable strength to her blows. Gradually Leliana began to realise just how a barely-trained elf had cut her way through half the arl's guards.

Behind her, Zevran and Alistair took down the other Warden's copy and turned. The elves were moving far too fast; sending an arrow or spell into the fray could risk hitting the real Jaiden, an attempting to join was an invitation for disaster.

"_Scared little elfing crying on a rooftop,"_ the double taunted, in sing-song mockery. _"Who was there for your family when the arl's men cut them to pieces? Maybe you would have enjoyed it. So much blood, so much blood…"_

"SHUT UP!" Jaiden's blades swept inwards at the same time as she let out a near inhuman roar; the false Jaiden used the space to slice through her guard and drive the point of her weapon through Jaiden's leathers and into her stomach, only to realise too late that there was no way to block Jaiden's attack. A sound like the final snip of a flower being pruned, and the apparition's head went rolling along the floor before vanishing. Jaiden dropped her weapons and pressed a hand to her abdomen. "Wynne…"

"Already here, Jaiden." Wynne's magic was glowing in the wound, and within a few laboured breaths the Warden was back to strength. She was very pale, however, and pressed a hand against the wall as she shivered violently.

"I need a moment."

"I think we all do." Alistair was looking around, his jaw set in a grimace that was far too reminiscent of his double. "We'll stop here and recuperate for a moment." He sat down, leaning against the wall. Leliana settled next to him, and the others slumped with them.

Leliana could barely breathe. The Gauntlet had confronted them with the worst of themselves, that much was obvious, but even though the manifestations had been defeated, it didn't mean that those thoughts were gone. It seemed worse, in fact. What if her double had been right? Her eyes shifted across to the others. Jaiden's regrets were clear enough now that the details of her recruitment had been dragged out of her, but what of Alistair? Or Wynne? And Zevran was not supposed to look back on his mistakes. Perhaps that was why his double had been defeated so quickly – it didn't have nearly the strength over him as the rest of them.

"Hey." Alistair was leaning his head on her shoulder, an unprecedented act of contact from the templar, but she couldn't bring herself to care. After what had just happened, the contact was welcome. "Are you all right?"

"I'll be fine." She nodded her head towards Jaiden. "I'm more worried about her." Jaiden was obviously tired, and had shut her eyes, her breathing slowing enough that Leliana was relatively certain that the elf had fallen into a light doze.

"She's been through a lot."

"You both have." It was just so unfair. To both of them. But these were thoughts she had rehashed countless times since joining the Wardens, and in the face of everything they had faced here, she did not want to dwell on them again for a while. Alistair gave her a smile.

"We're Grey Wardens. It's almost in the contract that life's going to be tough." He said nothing else after that, and Leliana was left to wonder exactly what, if anything, the Wardens told their recruits about life after joining. Both Jaiden and Alistair had mentioned that at least part of their anxiety stemmed from not knowing exactly what to do after gathering the treaties, but Leliana held faith that they would have a way forward by then. _Cure Eamon, get the treaties, and then we'll go from there._

In the end, they got about an hour's rest before stirring themselves again and trudging through the next door.

* * *

The group nearly jumped out of their skin as they entered another wide room, and a soft voice spoke as though standing in the middle of them.

"_Andraste loved Her disciples as she loved the Maker. As we have faith in the Maker, so must we have faith in our friends."_

"That sounds a little more hopeful than usual," Jaiden commented, before looking ahead and groaning. "I take that back." Looking around her, Leliana could see why she was concerned. A vast hole was sunk in the centre of the room, leaving a few broken tiles running around the edge, not nearly close enough to risk a leap to the door on the other side. "How on earth do we get past this?"

Alistair was moving around, and Leliana began to automatically check for traps or triggers they could use. "I'm not sure…maybe if we…" Alistair's foot came down on one of the broken stones and he leapt up in fright as a teeth-rattling, grinding noise sounded out, and a section of bridge appeared out thin air, suspended in the void.

"Alistair, you're a genius," Wynne declared, causing the templar to flush and look a bit confused. "So, if we step on these stones…" she pressed down with her foot, and another section of bridge appeared. "This seems surprisingly easy, all things considered." She stepped backwards, and the section vanished. "Ah."

Leliana could understand the consternation. There were not nearly enough of them to form all the pieces of the bridge at once, and so they couldn't hope to get to the other side and maintain the bridge. Zevran was peering at the piece that currently floated there.

"Can we try and find the first section? I want to try something." Jaiden obeyed, moving around until she found it, and Zevran carefully put a foot out, testing the surface. Leliana was aware of her heart beating in her throat as the assassin slowly leant his weight forward, eventually setting both feet squarely in the middle. "Now. Let's find the next one."

"What are you thinking, Zev?"

"If we rotate, I should be able to reach the other side and help you set up a more solid line across. We have to be careful; if we get one bit wrong I will fall through these stones and plummet to my death."

Zevran sounded scarily cheerful about that idea.

"Then get off. I'll go first." Jaiden did not move off her stone; neither did Zevran.

"You're a Warden, remember? I'm an expendable assassin. I'll be fine, _cara._" He met Jaiden's look of furious frustration with an easy grin. "I have confidence that you are all capable of getting a simple pattern right."

Jaiden looked as though she wanted to smack some sense into him, but unable to move off her stone, she nodded.

Leliana and Alistair shifted around, forming the next two set pieces, and Zevran strode out confidently, swinging his arms and whistling as though he was taking a stroll in the sunshine. Considering how out of sorts he'd looked after confronting his demon, Leliana was amazed that it had only taken him an hour to get back on form. If he truly was. Wynne took her place and the next section appeared, and, very tentatively, Jaiden left her position. The first section vanished.

The wait while they all moved about, the various stones flickering in and out of existence, was agonising, and Leliana was nearly convinced that one of them would get the sequence wrong and Zevran would go plunging downwards. And all the while the assassin stood there, looking utterly nonchalant.

At long last, it was done, and Zevran stepped safely off the other side. As soon as his feet touched the floor, the bridge re-appeared in its whole, solid and strong.

"Well, that was fun," he announced. When Jaiden got to the other side, she wrapped her arms around him, something Leliana had never seen either elf do to the other before.

"Never trick me into letting you do something like that again," she said, without any detectable threat in her voice. For a brief moment, Leliana wondered if there was something going on that she hadn't spotted before. But Jaiden held Zevran like a friend, not with the desperate clasp of a lover, and she released him quickly, looking back to the others to check they had all made it across. Relieved that there had not been more fighting, Leliana followed on, and they made their way into the next series of winding corridors.

* * *

The first impression of the final room was _heat._ The air crackled with it, and they all had to shield their eyes from the wall of fire that obscured their way to the end of the hall. Peering beyond it, it was possible to make out a set of steps reaching upwards, topped with a gigantic statue of Andraste. They were so close…

There was an altar in front of the flames, and Jaiden walked forward to examine it. There was an inscription across the front, and as Leliana read it she began to feel her face flush with a heat that was not associated with the flames before them.

"_Cast off the trappings of worldly life and cloak yourself in the goodness of spirit._

_King and slave, lord and beggar, humble yourself before the Maker and be born anew in his sight."_

Jaiden gave a tired chuckle. Alistair stared at her strangely. "What is it?"

"Zevran's dream come true, apparently." She sat down on the stones, beginning to pull her boots off. The embarrassment that had been building in Leliana cooled almost instantly, and she was aware of turning pale, as the realisation of what the others would see if she had to strip off hit her.

"…All of us?"

"Hopefully not." Jaiden's cuirass fell to the floor and she started unlacing the gambeson. "I'll go first; you all follow on if nothing happens." Alistair had already turned away, his ears pink with embarrassment; Zevran was watching without shame, smiling and lounging against the wall.

A few more minutes and Jaiden now stood utterly naked before the flames, and Leliana flinched at the sight of the scars the elf had accumulated over the course of her travels, the damage that would never be fully erased. There were a few long tracks along her back, of a style the bard knew well.

"You were flogged." Wynne was frowning at the damage cast there. Jaiden shrugged a shoulder.

"I was a thief. It's an occupational hazard." She was steeling herself; Leliana had to fight down the urge to stop the elf, call an end to the search, but she couldn't. Not when their goal lay only feet away.

Jaiden took a deep breath and stepped into the fire. It welled up, enveloping her, and Leliana screamed as the elf was engulfed by the inferno – but just as quickly it died down, vanishing completely. The Warden staggered slightly, and Leliana sprinted forward to help her before she fell over. Before she could reach Jaiden, the Guardian appeared and caught Jaiden's hand, his smile wider than ever.

"You have been through the trials of the Gauntlet," he said, and his touch sent something through Jaiden that seemed to revitalise the young elf. "You have walked the path of Andraste, and like her, you have been cleansed. You have proven yourself worthy, pilgrim." He swept out a hand towards the stairs. "Approach the Sacred Ashes." He vanished into nothing again and Jaiden turned back to the group, eyes shining with – something. Reverence? Delight? Relief? It was impossible to tell. And as it was, Leliana was trying very hard to keep her gaze fixed firmly above her friend's shoulders.

"I, too, feel as though I have been blessed by Andraste," Zevran quipped, with that unmistakable leery note in his face. Jaiden rolled her eyes.

"Shut up, Zev."

She pulled her clothes back on hurriedly, and then they began to climb up the stairs. At the top, sitting on the altar, was the Urn.

Their group fell silent. Even through all of this, it had seemed impossible that they were so close, that the Ashes actually existed, and now, to finally lay eyes on the remains of Andraste herself... Leliana felt a twist of guilt. She did not deserve to look upon this. It was the most holy thing on the Maker's earth and that she was among the first to see it after so many generations didn't seem right, somehow. The others seemed similarly affected by sheer awe of what they beheld, although Zevran made some inane comment about getting a similar vase for his house. Jaiden's hand reached back and she sharply tweaked his nose, before she reached out a hand and slowly removed the lid the of the Urn. It struck Leliana that while everything should be coated in dust after so long, the altar and Urn were as clean as if they were tended to everyday.

Jaiden lifted a pinch of the remains from the Urn, placing it within a small canvas bag she had set aside for the purpose. To Leliana's horror, she then took out the dragon's blood.

"Jaiden-"

The elf threw the vial as hard as she could against the wall. It left a ghastly splatter, an abomination in such a holy place, but Jaiden was seething with rage and Leliana did not confront her. She could certainly understand it – all those pilgrims who had searched for years, travelled up this forsaken mountain, only to be viciously murdered just for seeking to pay tribute to Andraste.

"Kolgrim's going to be waiting for us. And he's probably going to be angry." _Understatement, Jaiden._ Leliana tried to imagine the wrath of an already manic zealot confronted with the knowledge that he had been tricked, and put it to the back of her mind. "Shall we take a moment?"

They retreated down the stairs and began poking amongst the chests and remains of old explorers who had made it so far and failed at the last hurdle. The sanctity of this place was making Leliana almost dizzy and when she caught Wynne's eye, she knew exactly the same thoughts were flowing through the elder mage's head.

_How are _we_ worthy?_

* * *

Kolgrim met them outside.

"Already you return? But Andraste has not been freed? What manner of treachery is this!" His hand was already reaching over his hand to clasp the handle of his axe. Jaiden lifted her chin and stared at him defiantly.

"You were stupid if you thought I was going to desecrate those Ashes for you. Your Andraste is a lie." Kolgrim gave an almighty bellow and lunged forward, his axe free and swinging towards the elf's neck. Leliana was already pulling arrows from her quiver and lining them up with the mage, confident that Jaiden would be fine. Kolgrim was nowhere near as skilled as Sten and it took Jaiden seconds to send him tumbling to the floor, driving her blades through her neck with such force that he was all but decapitated.

The others were dealt with in short order, and one of them had dropped his weapons and turned tail. However, it was not with terror, but purpose, and as her eyes followed his path, she felt herself freeze. Standing on a plinth, not far from the doors back into the mountaintop, was a gong. If he managed to strike it, the sound would be more than enough to summon the dragon.

Jaiden's yell brought her back to herself.

"Stop him!" The man lifted a rock and threw it; Leliana's arrow pierced his heart, seconds after the projectile left his fingers. With a clang and crash, the gong fell onto the rocks.

There was a moment of silence in which Leliana was certain she could hear her heart beating.

And then there was a roar.

It landed with a heady thump that shook the air, flames billowing out towards Alistair. The templar ran, shield up, and Wynne's spell was already rising to protect him from the heat. Through the pounding of her heart and the fear buzzing in her head, Leliana heard her name.

"…fall back!"

She obeyed without question, after Morrigan and Wynne who were also assuming positions of relative safety. She was almost paralysed with fear as the templar clanged on his shield, keeping the dragon's attention on him, and Zevran and Jaiden sprinted across the stone, rising up on each side to sink their blades into the dragon's hind quarters, attempting to hamstring it. It roared, buffeting them with its wings and sending both elves tumbling backwards like leaves caught in a high wind. Sten was forward down, his sword tearing through the first layer of skin on the creature's chest. The dragon made a bite for him, and those massive teeth came within inches of impaling the qunari, but the head smacked into him instead. Sten went flying. An enormous burst of ice billowed from the end of Morrigan's staff, but all it did was coat the monster in glittering crystals.

Leliana tried to keep her mind on the task, but what could her arrows do against such a creature? It would be like attempting to stab a bronto with a needle. As its gigantic head whipped around, however, its yellow eyes glaring, a flash of instinct went through her, and she released the first arrow. Skill and luck came together and the projectile sank straight through the dragon's left eye.

The angry screech it gave was mind-numbingly loud, and Leliana stumbled, stunned. She was vaguely aware that the dragon was now looking directly at her, and something inside was screeching at her to run but she couldn't seem to move her legs. The monster opened its mouth and she saw the glowing flames rise in its gullet.

A stone clipped it sharply on the side of the head, probably not drawing the dragon's attention as much as the shout that accompanied it.

"OI!"

Jaiden was moving forwards now, directly towards its head, and Leliana saw that she was going for the eyes as well, but the dragon was already lifting its head, and the bard thought she saw something glimmer in its unbloodied eye, as though it was waiting for its moment. When Jaiden was within a few feet, the head lashed out.

And then Jaiden caught hold of one of the dragon's horns, and was swept up into the air, clinging on with all her might as she managed to swing around and straddle the creature's neck. It thrashed violently, but the elf hung on tenaciously, her legs twisting together as she sank her blades into the dragon's eyes. It gave a deafening roar, flicking its head up, and Jaiden lost her grip; she twisted in the air once, twice, three times before landing on its neck, driving her swords into the base of the dragon's skull. The monster sounded a ululating death knell before falling to the side – Jaiden was flung to the ground, rolling with an undignified clatter across the stone. Leliana ran to help her up, but there was no need; the elf was already on her feet, eyes bright with the exuberance of battle, and as the group looked to the blood spilling on the ground, the Warden's crow of triumph echoed back from the mountains.

**O**

**So many battle and emotional scenes in one chapter…I think I need to go put my thinkin' brain away for a bit. Thank you to all who have reviewed, etc, as it keeps me productive and happy! Next chapter: A day of rest, Zevran drags another of Jaiden's secrets out, and there is an awkward confrontation. See you then!**


	16. Conversations and Declarations

**A lengthy chapter with a big old heap of original dialogue! Fair amount of angsting, conversations, and Zevran embarrassing the hell out of Jaiden. **

**I own nothing but Jaiden herself. **

**-Genjutsu-Dragon-**

**O**

"Is she awake yet?" Wynne looked up as Alistair approached the fire, sitting down and leaning back on his elbows.

"Not yet. It's getting on for midday, though, so we should probably get her up soon."

After retrieving the Ashes and the fight with the dragon, Jaiden had allowed everyone a few hours to recuperate, although judging from the hollows beneath her eyes the elf had not done any resting herself. Once off the mountain, Alistair had taken charge for once and ordered a full day to get themselves back together. Jaiden had seemed only too happy to comply, and had fallen into her tent without even eating supper. Nobody was heartless enough to try and wake her, and Wynne still ached with sympathy for the girl. Not only to have something so horrible happen to somebody she loved, but to have the secret forcibly ripped out of her by circumstances beyond Jaiden's control; the mage could not suppress a shudder.

Alistair and Leliana had been hovering near Jaiden's tent most of the morning; attempts to tend to their tasks were forgotten half-way through, and Morrigan had taken over lunch duties with some irritation. Zevran had sat down beside Sten and started visibly irritating the qunari with a series of questions. Wynne had eavesdropped briefly, then decided for the sake of her mental health to stay out of it.

She was still thinking on her dream.

The Gauntlet had been tough on all of them, and definitely worst on Jaiden. The whole way through, Wynne had been watching for signs. The nightmare had been easy enough to interpret, and she was prepared to force Jaiden to take a back seat if she looked like she was beginning to crumble. But the Warden had made it through, using a last, explosive burst of energy to take down the dragon – a sight that Wynne would never forget, as heart-stopping as it was exhilarating. The unearthly bellow of delight the elf had let out upon realising her win had apparently been her last gasp, and after that she had been quiet, eyes shining but stumbling over her feet in exhaustion, and Alistair had eventually forced her to ride on his back the rest of the way down the mountain.

She smiled. The sight had been so adorable, with Jaiden half-asleep and her arms loosely curled around the templar's neck, a lovely counterpoint to the complete mess of the previous few days. Wynne had been watching the rising edginess between the two Wardens with some worry over the last few weeks, taking time to notice that it ebbed and flowed depending on the proximity of Leliana to either one. Troubling. Alistair's dogged display of devotion was rewarded only with the same smiles and cheer that the bard gave everyone, but Jaiden's presence always seemed to make Leliana lighten a little; although Wynne suspected that the bard did not realise she was doing it.

Which was perhaps, even more worrying.

She looked up as Jaiden finally emerged from the tent, looking a bit disoriented. She was dressed only in her light tunic and trews, which always made her look even skinnier and smaller than usual, and her hair stood out as a wild shock, matted into an explosion of red from the blood and sweat that had caked into it as she slept. The elf definitely needed a bath and thank the Maker, that was where she appeared to be headed. Jaiden gave her a nod before heading in the direction of the stream, greeting Leliana and Alistair very briefly before heading off.

Wynne wondered if there was any delicate way to broach the subject. Alistair was pretty clear with his feelings, whereas the rare signs she noticed that Jaiden was interested – holding the bard's gaze slightly too long, letting Leliana touch her when she drew away from others, the way she almost unconsciously relaxed when Leliana spoke – were obviously moments that had slipped out when Jaiden let her guard down. For whatever reason, the elf was trying to ignore an attraction to the bard, but was gradually losing the battle.

She sighed. Whatever happened, it would probably end badly; there was too much scope for tragedy. But she couldn't really confront anybody just yet. With that in mind, she set aside the thoughts for later, and pulled a book out of her pack, settling down to read.

* * *

Jaiden returned from the lake, her wet hair still thick even as it clung to her head. She sat by the fire and began dragging a comb roughly through it, biting her lip as she tore at the knots, breaking away strands with every stroke. After a few moments, Leliana gave an impatient huff, and came over, relieving her of the brush.

"Allow me. I can do that for you."

"I'm perfectly capable of brushing my own hair, thank you very much." Jaiden looked irritated.

"If by 'brush' you mean 'pulling out great hanks of', then yes, you are doing a marvellous job. Trust me, I can make it a lot less painful." Jaiden still looked aggrieved, but sat with her arms and legs crossed, and Leliana sat on the log behind her. She started from the bottom, carefully removing the tangles, and Jaiden was surprised when the expected pain did not come. Leliana's fingers moved softly through her hair, and she felt herself being lulled into a half-doze, awakened every now and again as a trickle of water went down her back.

"Maker's mercy," Leliana murmured. "It's like grooming an Old Ferelden Sheepdog."

"Hey, I try my best." Jaiden was too relaxed by the motions to be annoyed at the comment. "I had my hair much shorter when I was small. I didn't have to brush it back then."

"It's a lovely texture, and the colour is quite pleasing," Leliana commented. "You should take better care of it."

"Then perhaps I could flick it while I bat my eyelashes at the darkspawn. That'd confuse them."

"I'll join in." Alistair had plonked himself down beside them, resting back on his elbows. "You still owe me a dress, remember?"

"Don't worry, Alistair," Jaiden smirked. "You'll be the prettiest maid ever to dance the Remigold by the time I'm finished with you."

"After watching you assault your hair, I think I'd trust Leliana's advice more than yours."

The Wardens met each other's eyes for a moment, and then fell about laughing.

"Sit still!" Leliana firmly caught the elf's shoulder, pulling her upright again. "I'm nearly finished." She dragged the comb through the thick locks twice more, arranging it so it fell neatly around her shoulders, with a tendril hanging in front of each ear.

Jaiden promptly shook her head violently, sending droplets of water spraying in all directions.

There was an agreeable huffing noise from Boy, and it took Leliana a second to realise that the dog was laughing. Jaiden joined in.

"Oof, the pair of you are impossible." Leliana brushed away the water from her face, sighing.

"I'm sorry, Leli." Jaiden was tilting her head back, looking not the least bit contrite. "Am I not allowed any supper now?" Leliana ignored the slight lurch at the use of a nickname and smiled wickedly.

"You would be getting off lucky. I could always demonstrate some of the more creative Orlesian hairstyles on you."

"Such as?"

"There was one year when feathers were all the rage, and so to outdo everyone else, Lady Elise actually wore live songbirds in her hair." A smile tugged at her lips. "That was the evening that we all discovered that terrified little birdies often have loose bowls."

"Dear Maker." Alistair looked a little green.

"I don't think that's a fashion I'll be copying." Jaiden's tone was amused. "I'm going to have enough trouble convincing the nobles to unite without looking like a walking falconry."

"I don't know." Alistair was grinning. "If it were falcons, that would be amazing! You could just pick them out of your hair and throw them at anybody who gives you trouble!" The three of them burst out laughing at the idea of Jaiden pelting a stuffy noble in the face with angry birds.

After the chuckles died down, they sat in companionable silence. Jaiden looked disinclined to move herself from between Leliana's knees, and the bard went back to absently brushing her hair. It wasn't silky – washing with rough lye soap would never do that – but it was soft, and quite enjoyable to touch. To her surprise, Jaiden lifted her arms so they were draped over Leliana's legs and tilted her head back into the touch.

It was almost uncomfortably pleasant.

After a few moments, she finally regained her thoughts, and looked down at the top of Jaiden's head.

"You've seen…touched…Andraste's Ashes." Her smile was almost wistful. In that final room, there had been a faint sense of the tranquillity she had been looking for since fleeing Orlais, and leaving it had been difficult; but she could not have stayed there forever. "They are the holiest things on this earth."

"It's strange." She couldn't quite see Jaiden's frown, but she could hear it in her voice. "It looked…really mundane. But it felt weird."

"It felt weird?" Leliana raised an eyebrow.

"I'm a _thief_, not a poetess," Jaiden grumbled. "I don't have your way with words. But yes…whatever was in there – the magic – make my skin spark." She tilted her head back again, a surprisingly sympathetic look on her face. "I've been a bit mean in the past, haven't I? Don't get me wrong, I still dislike the Chantry. I don't like the Maker for deciding to shun everything He made only to have His head turned by a song. But…" she smiled. "Whoever she was…powerful mage or Bride of the Maker…I can really respect Andraste. What she had to go through must have been so difficult. Changing the world – what a task to drop on somebody's shoulders."

"Only a little more difficult than saving it, perhaps." Leliana kept her voice soft, but Jaiden heard, turning around slightly to give her a crooked smile that made a sensation pass through the bard which was distinctly unwanted. She squashed it.

"Comparing the Wardens to Andraste? Blasphemy, from you?" The grin widened and Leliana fought to keep her face just slightly amused. "Tsk. And here I thought you were the religious one." The bard whacked her very lightly over the head, and Jaiden turned around, still smiling, and sat back again, but she was not as relaxed as before.

After a few more moments of silence, Jaiden pulled herself upright.

"All right, I need some exercise."

"You are _supposed_ to be resting today." Jaiden stretched out her cramped muscles.

"I know. I just wanted a bit of light sparring, not having to fight for my life."

Zevran stood from his place by Sten and picked up his blades, twirling them in his hands with his usual, easy confidence. Alistair watched, his forehead furrowed in thought a moment.

"I'd like to spar too."

Jaiden raised her eyebrows in surprise, but nodded, smiling in anticipation.

"Sure. Let me get warmed up, though." She turned her gaze back on Zevran, who couldn't look more relaxed and easy to attack if he tried. She'd rushed into that trap far too many times now and been sent in an embarrassing tumble to the ground, so she did not press the advantage, but waited for him to come at her. A spark of mischief ran through her; she was going to surprise him. After a few moments of sizing each other up, the Crow lunged.

In a move she had never used before, Jaiden dropped her dagger. Zevran's eyes instinctively followed it as she placed her free hand behind her back, keeping her balance as she twisted the sword and flicked the knife from Zevran's left hand. As he made an automatic grab for it, she swatted him on the right, knocking the dagger from that one. She completed the move with a strong lunge forward, the blunted end of the blade smacking into Zevran's chest and knocking him over.

Jaiden turned to bow as Alistair and Leliana applauded, grinning proudly. It wasn't really a move practical in battle – she would certainly _never_ drop her off-hand weapon – but it wasn't a bad trick, and would be useful if anybody tried to challenge her to a duel. _Unlikely_.

Zevran was laughing, with a glint of knowledge in his eyes.

"You've been keeping that quiet." He propped himself up on his elbows. "Along with a few other things, I gather." The smile he gave her could be nothing other than lecherous. "Tell me, my dear – did you ever happen to meet a piratical acquaintance of mine by the name of Isabela?"

Jaiden kept her expression pleasant. "Why do you ask?"

"That was one of her prized moves. She must have schooled you, yes?"

"Well, if we're talking about the same woman, then yes. She was in the Pearl when we were in Denerim, and three men set on her. I tried to step in to help, but she took all of them down in seconds."

"That's Isabela, all right. Quickest blade in Llomerryn…and very jealous guardian of her secrets. You must have made quite the impression to get her to teach you that."

Jaiden felt her skin heating and tried to keep the blush from her face. The encounter had quickly been forgotten in the wake of Zevran's revelation about the alienage and since then the pirate had only crossed her mind once.

"We talked. I asked her as Grey Warden to teach me some of her moves. She agreed and we spent some time practicing."

"Oh yes? Might I remind you that you were an hour and a half late to the tavern. And it is entirely likely you arrived at the Pearl a while before we agreed to meet." He sighed in satisfaction. "Time must have flown."

Silently, Jaiden cursed him. She could feel Leliana and Alistair's stares on her and she had to fight the urge to run out of sight. Zevran did not appear to be finished yet.

"So, her moves. Is she still spritely? Agile and flexible? Does she still do that little trick with her hips?"

Jaiden plonked herself down by the log. "Shut up, Zev." She no longer felt like sparring. Alistair was looking between her and the assassin, plainly confused.

"I don't understand," he murmured plaintively. Zevran sat up, ignoring the death glare Jaiden was shooting him, and smiled widely at the templar.

"Well, Alistair, Isabela is a woman of skill and exotic tastes. It has taken a long time for her to develop them, and to get her to share requires – persistence. Apparently Jaiden rose to the task quite admirably."

"Do you ever stop talking?" Jaiden groaned.

"Not without a blade at my throat, my dear, and considering where you are sat, it would be impossible for you to accomplish that before I fled into the woods for my own safety." Jaiden clapped a hand over her eyes.

"Is it true?" A soft voice at her shoulder brought her attention back to Leliana. She craned her neck around to look at the bard's face. "Did you really go to bed with her?" Jaiden nodded, trying to read the peculiar expression that flitted over Leliana's face. But as quickly as it had come, it was gone, replaced by a saucy smile that was a much more pleasant alternative to Zevran's leer.

"So…how was she?"

"Maker above, Leli, not you too."

"Seconded." Alistair's voice sounded slightly hoarse. "I can do without picturing you…you know."

"Heels to the Maker?" Zevran offered affably.

"That's it." Jaiden knew she could be quick, but Zevran remained the faster, and slipped just out her reach before she could stop him; caught up in the need to wipe that smirk off his face, she chased him into the trees.

Alistair and Leliana looked after them, the former with confusion and the latter with downright mirth.

"I don't get those two," Alistair muttered. "Half the time, Jaiden seems to want to kill him, but they're still friends."

"I think most friendships have moments like that," Leliana offered between giggles. Alistair moved to sit beside her on the log, leaning in to whisper in her ear conspirationally.

"You don't think that they're-"

"Licking the wintry lamppost?" She looked very pleased when he blushed.

"Why did Jaiden have to share that with you?" Alistair buried his head in his hands.

"You are far too enjoyable to tease, Alistair. It is part of your charm."

Well _that_ sounded hopeful. He cleared his throat. "So, you think…?"

"Those two? No. Jaiden trusts him for reasons I don't understand, but I don't think she'll ever go so far as to share a tent with him."

"Would he like her?"

"That's a little bit of a silly question, Alistair." She smiled brilliantly at him and he felt the something that usually fluttered in his stomach when she spoke increase tenfold. "Zevran 'likes' anything possessing the right assets. Which, as I gather, are not limited to womanly ones." She shot him a sidelong glance, her eyes twinkling. "You know, if you played your cards right, you could end this Blight having bragging rights to bedding the very same Crow who once tried to kill you."

Alistair flapped his arms frantically. "No no no no no no no! Why did you have to put that in my head, woman?" Leliana was actually clutching her stomach laughing, and Alistair gave her a wounded look. "I swear, the entire female race is out to get me sometimes."

"I'm sorry! I'm-" Every attempt at speech was punctuated with fresh gasps of laugher. Wynne, who thankfully appeared to have heard only part of their conversation, looked up, gave a very Morrigan-like roll of her eyes, and went back to her book.

"And I was going to give you a present, and everything," he pouted, as the laughter died down. Her eyes were still bright with merriment, her lips slightly parted as her breathing slowed, and it was half on his mind to simply pull her forward and kiss her. He shoved the thought aside and begun to dig in his pack. Slowly, he lifted his hand and held up the rose he'd picked earlier. Her eyes went wide as he shyly put it in her lap.

"Do you know what this is?" _Stupid question._ Leliana seemed to be struggling with something, expressions Alistair couldn't read flitting across her face, before she finally settled on a slightly forced-looking version of her usual teasing smile.

"Your latest choice of weapon?"

"Ha, yes! Watch as I thrash our enemies with the mighty power of floral arrangements!" Maker, what was it about this woman that made him talk such _rubbish_? "Feel my thorns, darkspawn! I will overpower you with my rosy scent!" He grinned, sheepish but pleased, when she laughed again. "Or, you know, it could just be a rose."

"It's lovely, Alistair." Her tone was still lightened by giggles, and Alistair felt warmth blooming through him.

"I picked it in Haven. I remember thinking; how can something so beautiful grow in a place so cold, and full of suffering?" He stared at his knees, certain the flush on his face was going to cause his head to burst into flame at any moment. "So, I – I thought I'd give it to you. I…in a lot of ways, I think the same thing when I look at you."

"Me?" Leliana looked genuinely startled, and Alistair wondered if he'd said something wrong.

"I just-" he sighed. "I was thinking about it, earlier. You've had such a hard life and when you finally found some safety, we came along and ripped you away from it. You had every right to be bitter, but from the moment I've known you, you've been a bright, wonderful person who cares about everybody in this group. I certainly can't claim to be that selfless." He paused. "I don't think we thank you enough for everything you do. So I just wanted to say it. To tell you what a rare and wonderful person you are to find amidst all this darkness."

There was a long silence as Leliana looked down at the rose she now held in her hand, a thumb moving slowly over the petals. Alistair wondered if her skin was as soft as the bloom she caressed, and unthinkingly he raised a hand to brush her hair behind her ear.

"Alistair-"

That was definitely not the tone of voice he'd hoped to elicit with this speech. He cursed himself. Of course, what had happened to Leliana in Orlais had been abhorrent, and after that she'd only had contact with men who displayed no outward interest in her – although Alistair would guess that there had been plenty. To suddenly leap at her with his feelings laid bare, he couldn't blame her for sounding like she wanted to run away.

"I'm sorry." He lowered his hand. "It was just a stupid impulse." He saw out of the corner of his eye that Jaiden and Zevran were returning, and was unbelievably grateful for them having missed the whole conversation. Wynne would have caught it, of course, and if Sten had overheard he made no comment. As they came within hearing range, however, Morrigan's voice piped up.

"So your attempts to woo the chantry wench have been unsuccessful, Alistair?" Her voice was sneering, and Alistair felt Leliana shift around at the same time he did. "Thank goodness. T'would have been sickening indeed to watch the two of you gallivanting about."

Dear Maker, he had never been so tempted to smite her as he was now.

"Shut. Up. Morrigan."

"What's happening?" Jaiden drew his attention to her and while he was looking in her direction Leliana stood up and walked over to her tent. Alistair hid his face in his hands, trying to drown out the witch's mocking laughter. It cut off sharply – perhaps somebody had shot her a glare – and then his fellow Warden was kneeling by him, her voice filled with a sympathetic tone that made him want to scream. "Alistair?"

"Nothing." He stood up, wanting to be away from Morrigan's sneer, Zevran's amusement, Wynne's concern and most of all that damned pity in Jaiden's eyes. Seeking refuge, he walked into the trees, relieved when none of them chased after him. Pushing his hands together, he sat in his meditative pose, fighting to sink down to the clear space in his head where nothing mattered at all.

* * *

"Leliana?"

She didn't reply to the voice outside her tent, but Jaiden pushed aside the flap and entered anyway. Leliana turned, raising her eyebrows and forcing herself to smile.

"You really should wait for permission to come in." Her voice was steady, she was pleased to note, and she tried to try for teasing. "I could have been naked, for all you know."

Why in the Maker's green earth had she said that? Jaiden looked slightly stunned by the remark, but recovered quickly enough, kneeling beside her. "Are you all right? You bolted pretty quickly."

"I'm fine – it's just…Alistair…" Jaiden was now shifting awkwardly, obviously unsure of what to say.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

_No._ No, she did not want to talk about the templar's attraction to her, the way it seemed to be based on love rather than lust, and she definitely did not want to talk about how the person she was developing feelings for in his stead seemed utterly oblivious. It was cruel, she knew, but she aimed to throw Jaiden off by firing a question the Gauntlet had raised for her, and distract the elf from finding out more than she ever intended to reveal.

"You were taken as well, weren't you? By whoever…hurt your cousin."

Jaiden hissed, a sharp exhale of breath in shock, and Leliana waited with heart hammering for her reply. Eventually, the Warden looked away. "It's something I'm not comfortable talking about."

"I understand." And she did. The secrets of Orlais had become almost a poison within her, and she had been terrified of expressing them to anybody in case it was a siren call that bought the nightmare back to her. Besides, Jaiden had technically answered her question, and once again she wished could have somehow been there to prevent that horror happening to the Warden.

Jaiden reached into her pocket.

"Here. I…found these, just now." She pulled out flowers – Maker, what was it with Wardens and flowers today? – but these were delicate, small and white, and very pretty; somehow, much less garish than the rose. Leliana accepted them hesitantly and Jaiden sat back on her knees. "These were your mother's flowers, weren't they?"

Leliana looked down at the soft blooms and held them to her nose; a swirl of memories came with the scent, and an inexpressible feeling of nostalgia and longing welled up within her, along with tears. Jaiden looked panicked. "Oh Maker – I'm sorry, I didn't mean…" Leliana flung her arms around the startled elf.

"Thank you." She couldn't speak above a whisper or her voice would break. "Thank you so much for remembering." She could feel Jaiden tense, slightly, and then relax, wrapping her arms around the bard again and rocking her soothingly.

"It's okay, Leliana." Jaiden eventually pulled away from the embrace, holding Leliana at arms length, those green eyes setting off another of those sparks she'd first felt when tending to the wounded elf at Honnleath. "If you do want to speak about anything, I promise I'm a pretty good listener."

"I know that full well," Leliana managed. "You always let me ramble on when we're on watch together."

"I enjoy listening to you, that's why." Jaiden was turning to go, now, and smiled over her shoulder. "You're my friend. You can always talk to me."

Maker, how those words hurt. Leliana forced a smile and watched Jaiden leave the tent, a thousand words rising in her throat that she forced away again.

A friend. That was it. Just a friend. Leliana pressed her hands to her chest, absolutely certain now, and gritted her teeth.

Damn it, she was not going to cry again.

**O**

**This went on a little longer than anticipated. And to the anon PM who asked me what Jaiden was up to when she was so late back to the tavern – now you know! **


	17. Heritage

**All right, apologies for the longer-than-usual update; holiday weekend and all. Hope you all had a great time, whatever you celebrate, or even if you don't. In partially-related news, I now have a beta again, the wonderful **_**Ladyamesindy**_**, and if you haven't read any of her stories *whacks you over the head* go do it! **

**There is now a Leliana/Jaiden pic on deviantart, courtesy of aimo; the only F/F in her gallery, currently, so scuttle and have a nose if you're curious about what Jaiden looks like in full.**

**I own nothing, blah-de-blah.**

**Genjutsu-Dragon**

**O**

They were given a hero's welcome back at Redcliffe.

Scouts had met their group two days beforeand run back to the village to alert Bann Teagan of their approach. Word had obviously spread because as they came into sight, there was a hollering noise from one of the freshly-constructed buildings, and then all the villagers were pouring out of their houses, voices raised in thanksgiving, and a section of the crowd began pelting them with flowers. Teagan himself had bolted down from the castle, looking dishevelled with only a single guard in tow. He caught Jaiden by the arms, absolutely frantic, expression a mixture of fear and nervous hope.

"Did you do it? Did you find the Urn?" Jaiden nodded and the Bann actually swept the startled elf into his arms, raising laughter from the onlookers, before putting her down and apologising, redfaced with embarrassment. "Come, my brother still lives. Let us hope that the Ashes live up to their reputation!" Their group took off at a fast clip back to the castle. Isolde was there, her voice no longer as piercing but raw with the tears that had been shed since their departure, and when the Ashes were mixed with the potion and poured down Eamon's throat, she knelt beside his bed and clutched his hand in a white-knuckled grip.

There was a faint shimmering, like a heat wave, and the Arl coughed, his eyes slowly opening and looking with confusion at the faces gathered around him. "…Where am I?"

There was no time for words before Isolde had flung herself against her husband's chest, clutching at him and weeping. His hand came up to stroke through her hair, another firmly around her waist, obviously grateful for her presence despite being severely weakened. A pair of small hands shoved at Alistair's legs and Connor, who had been kept from the room, burst through, joining his parents on the bed. Eamon gave him a weak smile, drawing him into the embrace as well.

"Rest easy, brother." Teagan's voice was steady, but his eyes were a little over-bright. "You have been very ill for a long time."

"What has happened?"

Teagan and Jaiden exchanged glances, before the Bann turned back to Eamon. "A great deal. You should rest a while; we have a lot to tell you, and some of it will not be easy to hear. For now, know that this elf and her companions, are responsible for your being alive today."

Eamon turned his gaze on Jaiden, who gave him an awkward bow.

"My thanks. I would greet you properly, but my strength…" Isolde and Connor withdrew, sitting on either side of Eamon. "Teagan, see to it that this woman and her friends are given the best of everything here. Food, clothes, rooms, fresh weapons – anything they want."

"Of course, brother." Teagan began to usher them out, leaving the family to their reunion.

* * *

"All along here are your rooms. I've had them all made up for your arrival since our scouts returned, so hopefully they should be to your liking." Teagan opened a door and gestured for Morrigan to enter. "This one is yours, my lady."

Morrigan was prepared to scoff when she walked in, but the words died on her tongue. The room was _magnificent._ A fire roared in the massive grate, the bed looked big and opulent enough to comfortably fit four, the furnishings were all made out of wood embellished with intricate carvings, and around the walls were three beautifully woven tapestries, a triptych telling a tale of four pilgrims, as far as the witch could tell. It felt comfortable and warm, a welcome change from the weeks spent on the road, but she could still feel her skin prickling at the sensation of the stone walls encircling her, holding her in. Teagan bowed to her and led the others away, and despite her unease Morrigan felt a wash of relief that there would be a door between her pack and Boy's infernal explorations.

Sitting on the bed caused her to nearly fall backwards awkwardly; it was soft, and she knew that having long since become used to her bedrollit would probably impede her ability to sleep. There was a window, fortunately, and if she became truly irascible she would shift into a hawk and find a nice tree branch somewhere to settle on.

It was likely she would be up and pacing most of the night as it happened, anyway. Her gaze went to her bundle, her thoughts on the grimoire residing within. The book that had been so welcomed months ago now felt like a malevolent entity squatting within the confines of her pack, a constant reminder that she had failed Flemeth's very first lesson.

She had always known there was far more to her mother than met the eye. Flemeth herself had taught her the story of becoming an abomination, and having seen the things her mother had done to the templars that had occasionally come after them, Morrigan could well believe it. And yet somehow she had never thought to question why such an abomination would want her, would even bother to raise a child. She had never known the love that was supposed to be standard for mothers, but by simply being allowed to exist could have been seen as a form of that love, if Morrigan had been inclined to believe in such things in the first place.

Morrigan wished, for the first time in her life, that she had got to know other people better. Study their mannerisms, learn what worked to persuade them to see her point of view. Then she could stand a chance of persuading their leader to take a massive risk without endangering Morrigan's own life. Jaiden had proven herself to be reasonably loyal; her unwavering habit of trying to defend everybody during battle and the gifts she gave on a regular basis was proof enough of that. But every other person in the camp had become Jaiden's friend. Even the assassin, something Morrigan could not fathom. It made no sense that somebody so open to such a weakness should be so strong. Or had Flemeth's teachings been a way of ensuring that Morrigan would have nobody to help her when the abomination came for her?

Would Jaiden help her?

She felt weak, and she despised it. There was nothing she could do against this alone.

Angrily, she shook her head and stepped onto the windowsill, her body melting and reforming into a lean bird of prey. With a screech she took off, soaring into the darkness as far and high from the stone walls – and her protectors – as she dared.

* * *

Alistair was sitting on his bed, turning an onyx figurine between his fingers, when Jaiden stuck her head around the door. He tensed slightly at the sight of her; since it became clear that Leliana did not feel the same way about him as he did about her, he had been unable to miss seeing the way the bard looked at his fellow Warden. Perhaps she had always looked at Jaiden that way and he had been blinded by his own affections. Either way, the glances Leliana sometimes cast were downright sad and full of longing and even amidst the faintly jealous haze that hung in his mind he felt sorry for her. Jaiden seemed to have made a promise to herself since he had mentioned his affections by that stream so many weeks ago and was steadfastly repressing her own feelings while apparently being oblivious to Leliana's. Alistair could not help but feel a pang at the memory of her wistful expression when he had asked her opinion of the bard.

"…_I think she's very pretty."_

Maker above. When he had joined the Wardens he had thought his life was going to be _simple_.

He let his expression soften into a smile, however, and welcomed her. Jaiden returned the smile but it was tinged with worry, and he knew what was coming as she scuffed her foot against the floor awkwardly.

"How're you feeling?"

Eamon had risen a few hours earlier, and had immediately demanded an audience with the Wardens and Teagan to hear everything that had happened during the course of his long illness. It had been such a long time that Alistair had forgotten how controlled the arl was; through Ostagar, Loghain's usurpation, the civil war in the Bannorn, his son's possession and his own poisoning, Eamon's face remained set in a steady frown, but gave no other indication of his feeling one way or the other. And then he had offered Alistair up as a potential successor to Cailan.

Alistair could not have been more stunned if Morrigan had suddenly declared her undying love for him.

When he had first been told of his birthright at the age of six, it had been made very clear to him that it was _not_ his right. Cailan was shaping up into a fine young nobleman, a promising successor to Maric, although one with his head occasionally in the clouds. Why Eamon had even thought it worth mentioned was something Alistair had never figured out until now; it was in case there was ever a situation like this. That Eamon had planned for him to take over if Cailan died without an heir made Alistair feel like a very convenient pawn. Had Eamon actually allowed him to stay at Redcliffe all those years out of the kindness of his heart or because he wanted to keep an unexpectedly important piece close to him?

"Very un-kingly." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and pinched at the bridge of his nose. "Maker, Jaiden, I have no idea how I'm supposed to do this. I'm a commoner. How do I face down somebody like Loghain for the throne? At a Landsmeet, in front of all those nobles?"

"Loghain was born a commoner." Jaiden came to sit by him on the bed. "And we're making a name for ourselves, slowly. Eamon said that there will already be people speaking against the regent, given that he's coming down so hard on the people in the Bannorn. Hopefully we can use some of the goodwill we get to turn the tide a bit." She gave him a friendly dig in the ribs with her elbow. "Besides, you're much better-looking than Loghain. Flutter your eyelashes a bit and all the female banns will be falling over themselves to support you – amongst other things."

Alistair flushed. "Not so sure I want that." The thought of several power-hungry women eyeing him as a stepping stone towards becoming king frightened the hell of out him – even more than the thought of women actually paying attention to him, seeing him as more than just a friend. "Couldn't we just keep Anora on the throne and get rid of Loghain?"

Jaiden frowned. "We could…but who knows how she would respond to the Wardens if we killed her father? And I'd want to get a promise out of her. Even if she was the power behind the throne like Eamon suggests, she had that power for five years and did sod all for the elves; even in her own city." She scratched the back of her head. "I know I shouldn't bring my personal stuff into this, but if she wants to stay in power she's got some explaining to do about why we were left to Vaughan's tender mercies." The tremor in her voice at the mention of the man was confirmation that she was a long way from recovery on that subject. Likely she would have to suffer through it until they could get into the alienage and she found out once and for all what had happened to her family.

Jaiden surprised him by chuckling derisively. "Remember me telling Leliana about how I always wore my hair short?"

"Yes." Alistair had no idea where she was going with this and watched her warily.

"My mother's idea. One of her friends was snatched on the street, and that evening she called me to her and apologised, before cutting all my hair off. She got me to wear boy's clothes and play with them more than the girls. Jaiden works as a boy's name as well, so to any human who came into the alienage, I was just one of the skinny kids running around, completely beneath notice. I think I avoided a lot of trouble that way. When she died, I kept cutting it short, determined to keep beneath notice. I only grew it out again when my father made a match for me, and begged me to try and look a little more like a lady. The bastard was the first human to see me with long hair." She ground her fists into the bed, voice sounding precariously balanced on the edge of tears. "Of all the fucking ironies…"

Alistair was a little at a loss for words, so he put an arm around her shoulders. Instead of sobbing, she sat there in complete silence. He was scrabbling around for something, anything, to say, when she spoke again, pulling herself upright again and clearing her throat a few times.

"Eamon asked me to give you this." Jaiden dipped her hand into the pouch at her belt, drawing out an amulet on a long silver chain. Alistair looked at it without comprehension for a few moments, but then the pedant twisted, the familiar symbol of Andraste turning to reveal initials engraved into the back. His mother's initials. "Is this your mother's necklace? The one you told me about?"

Alistair stared at it. Just visible were a few hairline cracks running across the surface; it must have taken some time and patience to fit it back together with such precision. He was almost afraid to take it, certain it would shatter to a thousand pieces beneath his suddenly clumsy hands. Jaiden took his hand and placed it in his palm, closing his fingers around it. He felt himself shaking, and remembered how much Jaiden had been trembling when he fastened Reflection around her neck in the Gauntlet. The shimmering, mirror-like pendant was still around her neck, and when she pulled her hand away she twisted it between her fingers.

"He must have found this after I threw it at the wall," Alistair said, at length. His head buzzed with confused thoughts remembering how the moment he had watched it shatter against the wall he had regretted it. "And repaired it, and kept it. I don't understand…why would he do that?"

Jaiden shrugged. "Perhaps you mean more to him than he let on."

_Or perhaps it was intended to keep me in his pocket if I ever became useful again._ Alistair shook the bitter thought away; it was uncharitable and far too much like the thinking of the swamp witch for his comfort. "I guess you could be right," he said instead. "We never really talked. And then the way I left…" He fastened it around his neck. "Thank you. I mean it…I thought I'd lost this to my own stupidity."

The elf rubbed the end of her nose, embarrassed. "I just brought it here. Eamon's the one who fixed it."

"But you…you remembered me mentioning it." He gave her a lop-sided grin, all thoughts of jealousy gone for now. "Most people don't pay attention when I talk."

Jaiden affected a slightly blank look but her failed attempts at keeping back a grin ruined it. "Huh? Did you say something?"

Alistair wrapped an arm around her neck, pulling her close and rubbing his knuckles into her skull. "Ha-ha, very funny." Jaiden shrieked, pushing him off and swatting at him. As she pummelled his side and he pretended to beg for mercy, it occurred to him that perhaps she was the closest thing he'd ever had to a sister. He was so grateful for her; if she hadn't survived the Joining, if he had been left to deal with Blight alone, he was certain he would have long since gone mad. She responded to his jokes better than anybody he had met before, had almost never led them wrong, and was so brave. She bore the weight of her past with a strength that continued to surprise him and it gave him hope that maybe, just maybe, they could all get out of this alive.

And yet, he hadn't been able to swallow his bitterness about this…_thing_ that was slowly developing between her and Leliana. It was selfish and he knew it. Well, if Jaiden could be brave about everything that had happened to her then he could be about this. He exhaled slowly, and Jaiden pulled away as he steeled himself to speak, looking at him with concern.

"Jaiden…about Leliana-"

He was interrupted by somebody knocking at the door, and as they both turned a guard strode in and saluted them. "Forgive me for the intrusion, sers. Bann Teagan told me to inform you that there is a merchant who has been camped outside the castle for weeks, demanding to know when the Wardens would return. He says he has a message for them."

"Any idea what it is?"

"None. All he'd say was that it was something to do with some bloke named Duncan."

The ex-templar pushed past, running for the stairs. Jaiden managed to mutter an apology and thanks before chasing after him.

The merchant waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs was a slightly awkward-looking man with straw-coloured hair bound back from his face. He gave them a bow when they approached, a broad grin spreading on his face.

"The Wardens! At long last. You are a hard pair to find."

"You knew Duncan?" Alistair cut to the chase, his fingers clenching against the desire to shake the man.

"Er…yes." The man looked slightly taken aback. "I travelled with him when he was younger. My name's Levi…Levi of the Coins, if Duncan mentioned me." At the blank looks on both Warden's faces, he sighed. "We were friends for years. But I don't blame him for forgetting about me; he had a lot on his mind."

"What was this message?" Jaiden was starting to get the look that suggested that her patience was running out as rapidly as Alistair's was. They had not run down to the merchant to hear his nostalgic ramblings. Levi coughed awkwardly.

"Ah…yes. Well, before he died, Duncan made me a promise. There's an old Grey Warden fortress to the north; it's been abandoned for years, ever since my great- great-grandmother Sophia Dryden was Warden-Commander in Ferelden."

"You're related to Sophia Dryden?" Alistair's jaw hung open. In the six months he had been with the Wardens he had heard a great deal of their lore, amongst which was the legendary last stand of the Wardens against the tyrant King Arland. Sophia had apparently been a formidable warrior and the fortress would have important symbolic significance if they managed to re-take it. As he also recalled from his history lessons the Drydens had been disgraced, although he could not remember why.

Levi lifted his chin, obviously proud. "She was. But nobody knows exactly what happened in Soldier's Peak in that final battle and I was hoping to find enough evidence to clear her name. The place is supposedly haunted and Duncan was going to help me investigate; give some protection and the like in exchange for being allowed to set up an outpost there. As he's…well, no more, I hoped that you two would agree to help me instead."

Jaiden frowned. "I don't know." She looked to Alistair. "We really have no idea how long we've got to get the treaties…can we really afford to just go off on this? We got held up enough searching for the Ashes." Alistair stared at her a moment before realising that she was leaving the decision to him. Normally this would have scared the daylights out of him and it was with some surprise that he found he had a ready answer for her.

"Duncan made a promise." He straightened up. "We should keep it for him." He felt only the smallest tremor of trepidation; the rest of him was confident, sure this was the right thing to do. "Considering what he did for both of us, I guess it's the least we could do to honour his memory. At least until we defeat the Blight for good. We can head north following the River Dane – that should cut some time off - before re-joining the North Road. Then we can swing by Denerim, pick up some supplies and get our armour fixed, and head south to find the Dalish."

His fellow Warden offered him a proud smile that he could not help returning. Perhaps having to make the odd decision once in a while would not be so bad after all. Jaiden turned back to Levi.

"So, what's the name of the place?"

"Soldier's Peak."

**O**

**Transitional chapter done. The next few are going to pretty much consist of action, so will try to get them rolling soon as possible :) **


	18. A Promise Kept

**Well, once again, apologies for a late chapter. Exam season is finishing soon which means I can get back to updating, but this chapter just wanted to be written before then. One of my shortest chapters, I'm afraid - consider this a brief incentive for your continued patience until I get back to regular updates. Thank you for everybody who's reviewed, Story Alerted and fave'd this story – hope you haven't given up on this yet.**

**I own nothing but Jaiden.**

**-Genjutsu-Dragon-**

**O**

Sten was pacing.

It was unlike him. Normally he would not waste a movement; if he was agitated or bored, there were forms to practice, or he could go to the library and read on Ferelden history and military strategy (which, for the most part, confirmed his beliefs that the success of the rebels against their Orlesian occupiers was down to sheer stubbornness rather than skill). Occasionally he chanced upon the priestess in there, or Jaiden, although her patience for reading was obviously somewhat limited. The elf had the decency to let him be, whereas the priestess had apparently not yet learnt that to attempt conversation with him was pointless. On one occasion she had been sitting with a book on her lap but staring out of the window, her thoughts elsewhere, and she had given him only the briefest greeting before returning to silent contemplation of whatever was in her head. To his annoyance, not having to block out her chatter ruined his focus on the material in front of him, and he had gone to seek purpose elsewhere.

Today, however, he had found himself unable to settle. It was a new sensation and entirely aggravating. His mind was troubled, certainly, but it rare was not with the Wardens. Once again they were being led off course, walking right by the same forest that sheltered the elves they were supposed to be enlisting, up to the north of the country to capture a fort that apparently had nobody to defend it. It did have strategic and apparently symbolic significance to the Fereldens, but Sten felt that he had already made his thoughts clear. They should be concentrating on fulfilling the treaties, and then playing any political games that needed to be played.

He understood a little better than he had the difficulty the Wardens faced after the armies were gathered. This strange country held leaders accountable to their people and vice versa, and to get the rest of the support they needed Jaiden and Alistair needed to impress the minor nobles at this Landsmeet. They had to do this by spreading the fame of the Wardens, and reclaiming Soldier's Peak would go a long way towards that.

It was messy and disorganised. But at least they had a plan beyond gathering the armies now. Sten knew his irritation would be far easier to deal with if they were on the road, with plenty of walking and fighting to ensure his troubled thoughts did not disturb his sleep. For some reason, the arl had seen fit to waylay the Wardens, ostensibly to talk strategy but Sten suspected also to re-establish himself as important to Alistair. Humans liked to try and change their station, Sten had observed, although given that Eamon's wife had nearly doomed the village with her meddling and the man had apparently no knowledge until after the event suggested he would be a rather poor choice of counsellor for the potential future king.

It was annoying Jaiden as well, Sten noted. Perhaps the high stone walls of the castle reminded her a little too much of the alienage or simply she was used to being out in the open now, she roamed the hallways and courtyard like a stray cat and a number of times they had run into each other at the training yard, the recruits watching in awe from a distance as she beat the stuffing out of the dummies. He always ensured to engage her in a sparring match on these occasions, to keep her training at a high level. Since she had dropped the feigned weaknesses she had used to draw him into mutiny, competing with her was enjoyable; blade to blade she could not match him, but had drawn close even without her array of tricks. She had already been a shrewd fighter, and by now, she was becoming very skilled.

For the fourth time that day he descended the stairs and headed towards the main hall, not sure what he was seeking. He did not want to fight today – he had sprained a shoulder and did not want to risk further injury – nor could he settle to read. There was nothing new to discover in the castle and frankly he was getting tired of the way the servants either made their excuses to run away or spoke to him with the cringing air of kicked dogs. He would not harm them even if Jaiden ordered it, but that appeared to make no difference. They seemed nervous of most of their band, in fact, although the elven ones tended to tail Jaiden about until she lost patience and concealed herself somewhere. The Crow, on the other hand, seemed quite content with the stares.

Sten considered heading to the kitchen for some food – bland as Ferelden food was, it at least had a certain texture that would occupy him for a while – when he almost walked into the priestess, who had been standing, lost in thought again. She had been doing that a great deal lately, Sten observed.

"Leliana." He bowed his head at her, and she started slightly, turning towards him before giving a visible sigh of relief.

"I'm sorry, Sten." Her hand rested on her chest for a moment as she steadied her breathing. "I thought you were Alistair."

Sten understood now that when the templar had offered the priestess that rose, he was performing a ritual that was supposed to prove his desirability as a partner for Leliana. Sten was not surprised that it had failed – as a warrior, Alistair should have proved his prowess by slaughtering as many darkspawn as he could manage before dropping of fatigue. What he should have done upon her rejection was to go away and improve his abilities before trying again, but instead he had behaved almost the same around Leliana as he had before. Although he did not touch the priestess as often as he had, Sten observed. And as for the priestess…

Another curious human reaction, perhaps. More than anybody else, she seemed to follow Jaiden around and make the same excuses to touch the Warden – brushing her hair, helping with injuries, hugging – that Alistair had made for Leliana. It was as though she was trying to initiate the same ritual with Jaiden, although that made no sense at all. Two women could not produce a child, after all. And they both _fought_. By the Qun, he could not work it out. Jaiden, at least, did not seem aware of or acknowledge these attempts, which kept things simple.

"As you can see, I am not the templar." He looked at her. "Why are you standing in the hallway like a decorative statue?"

"I was just thinking."

"A rarity." She blinked at him, an uncertain smile appearing on her face.

"You are either saying I am foolish or you are making a joke, Sten. I hope it is the latter."

"I was merely stating a truth. Normally you talk your thoughts rather than just thinking them." She looked annoyed by this, but fortunately did not attempt an argument. Humans, and women in particular, followed a convoluted form of logic when it came to taking offence that Sten could not and did not attempt to follow any more. Instead, he chose to speak even less. "You have not been doing this of late, however. Why?"

Leliana frowned. "Sometimes a person has thoughts they do not share. You rarely share yours, you should understand."

"I have always done so, however. Despite my attempts to get you to desist, you have frequently shared yours with me. Something has happened that is causing you to deviate from your normal pattern of behaviour, and that may have an effect in battle."

The frown faded, replaced by a quick smile. How humans went so quickly from one emotion to another was yet another mystery to add to the list. "Are you worried about me, Sten?"

"I am concerned your ability to fight may be compromised."

The smile widened. "I thought you said women cannot fight."

"They cannot. Therefore my logical conclusion is that you are not a woman, and I shall leave that subject there – I have already spoken with Jaiden at length about this subject, and do not wish to cover the same ground again." The priestess' smile had gone again and she had looked ready to take offence, but mercifully seemed to realise that it was pointless. Instead, she sighed again and leaned against the wall.

"I'm worried about the Wardens, Sten." Her eyes clouded with an expression Sten should not have been able to read, but could. Guilt. Perhaps not as powerful at what he felt for not yet avenging his fallen brethren, but strong regardless. "I rejected Alistair, and he could use somebody for support right now. And Jaiden seems a little…distant, lately."

"She is detaching herself, as a good leader should."

"I believe a leader should be more emotionally invested, personally."

"Nonsense. If a leader takes the death of every single person under their command to heart, they will be rendered useless by grief." Leliana looked surprised at this comment.

"I didn't know you could feel grief, Sten."

"Of course I can. Qunari are simply far better at controlling their base emotions than humans." He kept his gaze focused on her as he crossed his arms. "I felt grief and guilt at the deaths of the soldiers I travelled with, more for the family I slaughtered without provocation. I attempted to make amends for this, just as I continue to do now. Just because I do not weep and rend my clothes does not mean I do not have these feelings." And the very worst; that ache at the loss of Asala, the constant sensation of missing a limb. He had no intention of sharing this with the priestess, however. Leliana looked thoughtful for a moment.

"I feel guilty, Sten." She wrapped her arms around herself. "I rejected Alistair, and without any kindness at all – I just ran when he was distracted. It was cruel."

"I cannot blame you. To attempt that sort of relationship at this time is unwise. The templar should not dabble in such things in the middle of a Blight." There was that frown again.

"Surely in the middle of such trouble is a good time to take advantage of it? You never know when you're going to die."

"And death can be prevented for longer if one's mind is not distracted by nonsense. Also, I thought you were adverse to his attentions? Why would you argue that it is a good time to be subject to them?"

Leliana did not meet his eyes. "Just because I do not want him in that way does not mean I would turn away everybody in camp." Given what he had just been thinking about, Sten had a strong suspicion about who the priestess was referencing, although his mind could make no sense of it. Striving for some logic, he settled on the next most obvious choice.

"So you would like the Crow to join you in your bed once you are sufficiently convinced he will not kill you?"

"I trust Zevran." Leliana's reply was quick. "But I do not want to ever find him in my bedroll."

"Hrrm. The next most obvious choice is me." The priestess spluttered slightly and Sten continued before she could speak. "But I have my doubts about that. You have been watching another." He frowned. "I do not understand the purpose of two women being together in the way you appear to desire the Warden. What is the appeal in such a coupling?"

Leliana's mouth fell open, utterly speechless – for once. She was apparently struggling for a reply when the Warden herself rounded the corner, looking focused for once.

"Hey, Sten. I was just looking for you." She waved vaguely at Leliana, but kept her attention focused on him. "I need you for something down in the village."

"Can I help at all?" The priestess' voice rose behind Sten, but before he could point out that Jaiden had not included her in the request, the Warden spoke for herself.

"Sorry, Leliana. I only want Sten for this." The priestess looked hurt, and then irritated, spinning on her heel and walking away. Jaiden did not attempt to stop her, but watched her go with a faintly mournful expression Sten had never seen on the Warden's face before. It only took her a moment to gather herself, however, before she turned back to him. "

Jaiden did not chatter or offer to share her thoughts with him at all. She was as distracted as Leliana had said, and walked ahead at a slightly faster pace than normal, leading him down into the village and though a few twisted walkways suspended above the water before coming to a stop in front of a house on the lakeside. She rapped sharply on the door and a low, grumbling voice admitted them entrance. Inside was a dour-faced dwarf.

"Wonderful to see your ugly mug again, qunari," he said irritably. Sten recognised him as the one with the mercenaries, who Jaiden had managed to talk into helping the militia during the undead attacks, and time had not made him any less furious with her for doing it. "Are you going to pay me for it or what?"

Sten had no idea what he was talking about, but Jaiden pulled out her money pouch and counted out five sovereigns. What could she be buying that was worth that much? Dwyn jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "It's in a chest through there. You're welcome to it; none of my men can lift it anyway." So now apparently Sten was a pack mule for whatever bizarre purchase Jaiden had just made. He did not raise an objection yet, deciding it was better to not make complaints in front of the dwarf, and followed Jaiden into the back room. Before she opened the chest, she turned to him.

"I'm sorry I didn't carry it up, Sten. I thought you'd want to be the first one to hold it." She pushed back the lid.

It was lying in the bottom of the chest, wrapped entirely in soft yellow cloth and bound with twine, all but the very tip of the pommel hidden from sight. But the moment the chest had been opened, Sten recognised it, and his arm actually shook as he reached in to pick it up as reverently as any tamassran with a new-born infant, convinced that this was some dream or illusion, that he would blink and it would be gone. But his hands closed around the solid weight of the sword and he lifted Asala from its resting place. Carefully, he pulled the twine and cloth loose and ran a thumb along the edge of the blade. It had been well-kept, although not as much as it could have been, but it could have been blunt as a wooden practice sword and he would still be feeling this odd, overwhelming sensation that he could only associate with a word the priestess had tried to describe to him – joy.

"Strange." He hefted the sword easily, making a few short, controlled sweeps as Jaiden stood out of the way. "I had forgotten this feeling – completion." He had been walking far too long feeling the loss of Asala, but he had been unable to remember what it was like with it nearby. "Are you certain you are a Grey Warden?" He was looking at Jaiden now, realising that a new feeling was stealing through him at the sight of the elf. A sensation he never would have thought he could feel about any human, elf or dwarf from these Qun-forsaken lands. He respected her. "I think you must be an ashkaari to find a single blade in a country at war." There was more, though. He could have been very useful to her without her going out of her way to find Asala, but she had told him she would do it regardless, and had kept her promise. "In the language of the qunari peoples we have a word, for one who is revered and respected by the person speaking, indicating a closeness of spirit. _Kadan._ I do not know of an elf having received this title before, but I am proud, Jaiden Tabris of the Grey Wardens, to call you my _kadan._"

"I am honoured, Sten." She was smiling at him and to his surprise Sten felt the corners of his mouth lifting in response. "You've put up with a lot, I know. I'm glad I could do at least one thing for you." To Sten's surprise, she then looked a little sad. "You have Asala back now. You can return home to make your report on the Blight. I won't force you to stay."

Sten thought for a moment. Smiling made his face ache but he tried it again as he spoke. "I believe I could make a more thorough report if I stay and see this Blight to its end. Unless you wish me to leave?"

"No." Jaiden's response was gratifyingly fast. "You might be a miserable sod sometimes, Sten, but I like having you around."

By the Qun, why did humans smile so much when it made the cheek muscles ache like this? Sten could not help it, however. "Then lead the way, _kadan_." Jaiden grinned at him and started to leave as Sten strapped Asala to his back. It was as though he had been re-forged; every part of him felt stronger, lighter, tougher than he had been before, and when he walked out after the Warden he offered a silent prayer to those who had been slain at Lake Calenhad and by his own hand; he would pay back every drop of blood that was owed, and Asala would help him pay proper tribute to their memories.

Ahead of him, his _kadan_ had slowed to ambling pace, face turned upwards to catch a little of the rain that was beginning to fall, and smiling to herself.

**O**

**One more week until I get back to it. See you next chapter!**


	19. Scars Uncovered

**Thank you again for all the lovely reviews, guys! I'm glad that I've done a portrayal of Sten that people find in character with him. This upcoming chapter was beta'd by **_**Ladyamesindy**_** (thanks hon ^-^), and hopefully you will all enjoy it *taps fingers together***

**I only own Jaiden.**

**-Genjutsu-Dragon-**

**O**

When their group finally left Redcliffe, Jaiden's overwhelming reaction was a sense of relief. The attention that had been lavished on her made her uncomfortable and being drawn into talks with Eamon about Alistair's situation made her even more so. The Arl had suggested so many courses of action and the possible implications that towards the end just seeing the man gave her an instant headache, and there were several battered practice dummies at the castle that had borne the weight of her frustration at being unable to actually contribute. As Alistair had said, Eamon seemed like a good man with good intentions, and he had been quite eager to try and butter her up by offering to make sure that Alistair rewarded 'her kind' with more freedoms than they had been allowed before. The idea of her fellow Warden ending up on the throne with one human man whispering suggestions in his ear made Jaiden's skin crawl. Tensions had eased a far bit between her and Alistair since Levi had arrived, but even when they had been acting like wary cats around each other Jaiden did want him to be happy.

Now Alistair seemed to have withdrawn; Leliana had rejected him and while he treated her with the same chivalrous, slightly bumbling attitude as before, Jaiden noticed that he no longer took every opportunity he could to touch the bard. Most nights, instead of staying up to talk to her, he went over to speak to Levi. The merchant had a great many tales about his younger years with Duncan, and was an adept storyteller; Jaiden had joined them on a few occasions, listening raptly. She didn't idolise the deceased Warden-Commander as Alistair did, but she still owed him her life and it was strangely comforting to hear how reluctant he'd been at the beginning. Leliana often joined them to listen as well, and Jaiden had been relieved to see that there seemed to be no ill-will on her or Alistair's side.

However, now that the templar was no longer trying to win Leliana's affections, there was no mental barrier Jaiden had for the feelings she'd been trying to keep away since the day that Zevran had joined them. She hadn't made the best effort to begin with, held back more by uncertainty about Leliana's preferences than any sense of decorum or responsibility, but then Alistair had talked to her and it had been easy. She could even feign a sense of nobility; denying her own feelings for the sake of her companions' happiness. That safety was gone now and she felt perched on a precarious edge with no idea of what would happen if she let herself topple over. She found herself looking for the bard in battle, going to her immediately if she was wounded, making excuses to sit with her in the evenings or join her during watch.

And it seemed like everybody in the party had noticed. She had put up with sidelong, humorous glances from Alistair, ribbing from Zevran, a pointed query from Sten and a few probing questions from Wynne, as well. Morrigan's only contribution, as ever, was to roll her eyes. The witch had been decidedly quiet lately; her verbal spars with Alistair had lost their bite, and she seemed more irritable than ever now. Something was bothering her, but every attempt Jaiden had made to broach the subject was rebuffed. In the end, Jaiden had decided that if Morrigan wanted to speak of it, she would.

Leliana had carried on behaving as she normally did. She fiddled with Jaiden's hair from time to time in an attempt to tame the mass that Jaiden usually left to its own devices when it wasn't roughly tied back, sang to the camp and told stories when Levi was done. During their nights on watch together, the bard seemed prone to long moments of silence, but Jaiden found these moments strangely comfortable. And the last time…Leliana had actually fallen asleep on her.

This had put Jaiden in a bit of an awkward situation. As leader, she should have woken up the bard immediately and chastised her for falling asleep on watch. After all, who was to say she hadn't done it while on guard with any of the others? But Leliana's face had looked so blissfully restful that Jaiden couldn't bring herself to wake her. Instead, she'd taken the opportunity to really, properly look at the bard, studying the features without fear of notice. The full lips had been slightly parted and Jaiden had forced herself to look away before she gave in to her next urge, focusing on her task while absently running her fingers through the bard's hair. Fortunately, she had stopped that long before Leliana woke up and started apologising profusely.

It was all beginning to get distracting. She was supposed to be cooking tonight, although Morrigan had done most of the preparation, given her a wooden spoon and told her to keep stirring "as anything more complex seems beyond your abilities, frankly." She knelt by the fire, tending to the food and thinking, but more than once she'd come to and found herself just sitting there as the stew started to bubble over. Eventually, she'd given over the task to Alistair and gone wandering, circling the perimeter of the camp on the pretext of keeping a lookout.

She definitely hadn't noticed Leliana going off to bathe earlier. And she certainly wasn't thinking about going over to the stream at any point soon. Just to check the bard was safe. At all.

Naturally, her feet had carried her in that direction before she could come up with a reason for them not to.

She wasn't sure what she had been expecting, really. She did genuinely want to make sure the bard was safe, preferably without embarrassing her, so her vague plan was to call out before she reached the stream. However, she misjudged it, and she left the cover of the trees before she spoke, and then her breath caught sharply.

Leliana was standing in the water with her back turned to Jaiden. Her hands were threading in her hair, squeezing droplets of water out that trailed along her shoulders and back. Normally Jaiden would have found this distracting enough, but the moment she had spotted the bard, something else was instantly thrown into sharp relief.

Scars.

The bard's skin was littered with them; abrasions, cuts, lash marks, brands. For one sickening moment, Jaiden thought that Leliana accumulated all of these since joining them, but swiftly realised that some were too old, and that the Orlesian had never been injured in such a fashion in the time with them. These were remnants of Marjolaine's betrayal, and the next sensation to flare up in Jaiden was unadulterated rage.

Her shocked exhale had been too loud. Leliana turned sharply, sending up a spray of water as she covered her chest, and Warden and bard locked eyes for a moment. Jaiden wasn't sure what expression Leliana read on her face, but the woman's eyes were suddenly too bright; she turned around again, exposing the damage across her back again, and there was the noise of a muffled sob before the bard ducked completely beneath the water.

Jaiden wasn't sure what prompted her to move. She pulled her boots and sword-belt off and then plunged into the water, wading over, ignoring the pull of her sodden clothes as she charged through the water. It was freezing and a distant part of Jaiden's mind wondered what in Thedas had prompted the bard to try and bathe tonight. Every other part of her was focused on getting Leliana back to the surface. She hauled the bard back up; Leliana hadn't been under long enough to be deprived of air, but was simply limp in Jaiden's arms, apparently completely unable to put her weight on her feet. With some effort, Jaiden managed to turn her around and hugged her close. The fury that had possessed her moments before gave way to a very familiar sense of guilt. Had she let some flicker of revulsion cross her face? Did Leliana think she was disgusted by what she had seen?

Leliana seemed unwilling to touch her; the bard's arms still hung loose by her sides. Jaiden pulled back a little.

"When Marjolaine betrayed you…"unthinkingly, she still had one arm wrapped around Leliana's waist to keep her upright, while her free hand went up to push a lock of hair out of the bard's eyes. "…did she know they would do this?"

Leliana shut her eyes. "Yes." Jaiden could feel the woman's body trembling with more than cold now. The bard's breath caught with sobs, and she was trying to push away. "Please…stop looking at me…"

"Why?" Jaiden did not loosen her hold on the bard in the slightest, looking at Leliana's face and waiting for her to look into her eyes again. Leliana kept her face turned away.

"I'm hideous."

Jaiden caught Leliana's chin, making her look around and forcing her to meet her eyes. "Listen to me." The bard obeyed despite herself, and Jaiden could_ feel_ Leliana's breath hitch, pressed against her as tightly as she was. For some reason the sensation made Jaiden want to growl.

She suppressed the urge, instead letting herself by fixated by the large blue eyes focused on her. They were wet with tears and there was a curious mix of fear and…something else…swirling in them. Jaiden recognised the 'something else', and forced herself to concentrate. "You are beautiful."

The expression on Leliana's face was instantly replaced with profound disbelief. Jaiden could understand why; she didn't think she'd ever described something as beautiful to anybody in their camp before. Jaiden rested her forehead against Leliana's, her expression brooking no argument. "You are."

The bard's weight was sagging in her arms again, but Jaiden's grip kept her upright. Leliana was trying to run away and for whatever reason that had pushed her to go looking for the bard that evening, Jaiden wasn't going to let her. She waited. If Leliana told her firmly to let go, she would obey, but the bard said nothing. After a few moments, the Orlesian's arms came up and clasped Jaiden tightly. Her face was hidden in Jaiden's neck and for a while they just stood in the freezing water, Leliana clinging to Jaiden like a drowning sailor to a rock.

When she finally looked up, Jaiden found herself looking at the bard's lips again. And she saw Leliana notice this. She could feel the bard's breath speed up, the other woman's heartrate increase. There was nothing Jaiden wanted to do more right now than lower her head and kiss Leliana's fears away, reassure with touch that she was beautiful.

But…

She owed Leliana the truth, first. The full truth. She forced herself to pull away, pained by the return of the worried expression in Leliana's eyes. It took a little clearing of her throat to stop her voice sounding husky.

"When you're finished…I have something to tell you. Come to my tent when you're done?"

Now the poor woman just looked confused, but she nodded. It took every ounce of Jaiden's willpower to step away and leave Leliana to finish bathing. Once sure that the bard wasn't going to hide under the water again, Jaiden returned to the bank and retrieved her boots and sword-belt before squelching her way back to camp. The warmth that had been spreading through her at touching Leliana was dissolving rapidly, replaced by a vague nausea. She was not looking forward to this.

* * *

"So what is it you needed to tell me?"

There was hope Leliana could not afford to entertain, distant at the back of her mind. Jaiden's expression suggested that this was not to be a declaration of love, and the conflicted look on the Warden's face sent a twist of fear through her. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear, now and Jaiden looked down, fiddling with the blankets. Finally, when Leliana was about to suggest she leave it, she spoke.

"You told me what happened to you in Orlais." She reached out again hesitantly, finger tracing over the bard's shoulder, where a scar was hidden by her clothing. The touch was light and reverent, and in other circumstances Leliana might have found it distracting. "I think it's time I returned the favour."

"You – you're going to tell me about the alienage?" Jaiden was trembling, but nodded.

Slowly, she slipped the ring from her finger, the first time Leliana ever recalled her doing so. She held it out on her palm, and Leliana examined it curiously. "That's…lovely."It truly was - a silver design of intertwining leaves, with an offshoot that curled around the knuckle and another that reached up to the first joint. It had been meticulously crafted and the details were superb. "Why are you showing this to me?"

An intake of breath, and Jaiden shut her eyes. "It's my wedding ring."

Leliana could not help her mouth falling open. It wasn't just that Jaiden had never mentioned a husband – or wife – no, she simply could not imagine Jaiden being married at all. Did her partner know she was with the Wardens? A twist of agony that caught her off guard wrenched her gut. So Jaiden was….

"You…are married?"

Jaiden's lips twisted in a bitter smile.

"I was to _be_ married." She sighed. "It was my duty. I'd never met my groom before the day itself. He came from Highever, and he seemed nice enough, despite me making it very clear that I did not want to be wed. I suppose – in time – I could have loved him."

Leliana was trying so hard to keep quiet that she was barely breathing. The words were spilling faster out of Jaiden's mouth now, and the bard knew that the elf needed this, had to speak about what had happened to her, and as she did, Leliana was filled with a sense of horror. What had happened in the Gauntlet had only been a hint of what the Warden had been through.

"On the morning of the wedding, a local lord's son came into the alienage and started causing trouble – grabbing at my bridesmaids. My cousin Shianni bottled him and he was carried out by his friends, and we thought that was the last of him. But he came back as we were about to exchange vows. He brought the guards with him, and he just started picking which of us he wanted to take." Jaiden's expression twisted, her eyes burning with hatred. "Like we were _whores_."

"Nelaros – my groom - tried to defend me, but as I was yelling in the bastard's face, one of his men struck me and knocked me unconscious. I woke up locked in a room with Shianni and a couple of other women, as well as my other cousin Soris' bride-to-be. The guards came for us and one girl tried to defend herself. They cut her down instantly." Jaiden's fists were bunching the material of her trews, her shoulders tense. "They took the others and the last two went to tie me up. I fought back, and they t-tried to…" She swallowed, hard, and Leliana felt her mind cloud with rage at the thought of how close Jaiden had come to living the same horrifying experience as herself.

"Soris arrived just before they pinned me and threw me a sword – I killed them before I had time to think." She paused. "It was the first time I'd ever killed somebody. I was so scared and horrified that I threw up everywhere."

Leliana itched to reach out for the Warden, to silence whatever else had to be said and to comfort the elf and drive away the memories, but she knew it had to spoken aloud. Jaiden had left the wound untreated for far too long and the guilt would eat at her like a canker.

"Soris had come with Nelaros, who was guarding the hallway; we fought our way through just in time to see the Captain of the Guard butcher him. He had no armour, was in a strange city, and didn't really know me at all, but he risked and lost his life for me." It was clear from Jaiden's tone that she did not feel that she deserved the sacrifice. "I took the ring from his body. We couldn't give him a decent ceremony, so I wear this as a reminder. He deserves that at least."

Leliana knew she shouldn't pry, but she couldn't help herself. "Were Shianni and the other girls – all right?" Jaiden shut her eyes.

"We found them. We walked in on the arl's son r-raping Shianni. I – she was…I was too late. She was broken. Vaughan tried to bribe us, and then tried to murder us when I told him no. I cut him to pieces."

Leliana's hands came up of their own accord to try and clasp Jaiden's face, attempting to offer the same affirmation that Jaiden had given her in the water. The Warden caught her wrists, looking at her with desperation through tear-blurred eyes.

"I was too damn slow…I could have been better, fought faster. Then she wouldn't have looked so –so…"

Control gave way and Leliana pulled Jaiden to. The elf's arms wound around her waist, clinging to her like a drowning sailor to a rock, hiding her face in the bard's shoulder. "I failed her. If I couldn't save her from one stinking, violent bastard, how am I meant to defend Ferelden from the horde?" She gulped back tears. "She could be dead for all I know."

"There is life after such things," Leliana said quietly. "She will have been in much pain, and frightened, and she will have suffered. But if one possesses the will, one can survive, and carry on, gradually learning to forget – although not necessarily to forgive."

Jaiden lifted her head and stared at Leliana with over-bright eyes that were suddenly suffused with understanding.

"It happened to you."

"Yes," Leliana said, softly, trying to soothe Jaiden as she felt the elf's body tense with rage again. "But we are not talking about me. From what you've told me of Shianni, she is a fiery woman, and would not let such a thing break her."

Jaiden was silent for a few moments. Leliana was not sure what else she could say to comfort the elf, and was surprised when she was pulled back against Jaiden in a tight embrace.

"You are a good friend," the elf said, and Leliana felt that twinge of pain again, before remembering the look in Jaiden's eyes when the elf had held her in the stream. "Thank you." The arms tightened a little more. "And I'm sorry. For what happened to you."

"The betrayal was the worst part of it." Leliana was grateful for the strong hold the elf had on her; it stopped her from drifting too far into the past. "Even more so than…that. Knowing that the woman I loved was so willing to simply throw me to the wolves, not because I was a real threat, but because I was an inconvenience. It robbed me of the will to escape for a time, and I was prepared to die, because it would be a sweet release from the physical and mental pain I went through every second in that place."

"She didn't deserve you." Leliana's head rested against Jaiden's chest now and she could hear the snarl vibrating through the elf's frame. "I don't care what you used to do. Nobody deserves to be betrayed like that."

"Jaiden, I…" the bard wasn't sure what was prompting her to speak. She was here, in Jaiden's tent, in the elf's arms and it was nothing like her dreams. Had what she seen in the Warden's eyes by the lake been a desperate attempt by her own mind to give her an excuse to pursue the elf? "You don't need to say that to make me feel better. I did some horrible things…"

"And I don't care. You spent two years in the Chantry, trying to pay penance for it. You could have chosen any way to disappear, simply run from Marjolaine and hidden yourself in a city somewhere. But you tried to make amends." Jaiden was running a finger along her jawline, the soft touch almost a tickle. Somehow the strong hold had softened; less an angry grip now than a genuine embrace. Leliana felt her heart speeding up again, and with her ear pressed against Jaiden's chest, she could hear the steady thump getting faster. Leliana lifted her hand to brush against the Warden's cheek.

"Dinner's ready!"

Alistair's voice nearly made both of them jump out of their skin. His footsteps stopped outside the tent, and Leliana was fairly certain she could hear an amused note in his voice. "If you ladies are done talking, I suggest you come and eat it before Boy finishes off the lot."

To Leliana's disappointment, Jaiden had instinctively pulled away at the sound of her fellow Warden's voice, and now she had let go seemed uncertain about trying to touch her again. She cleared her throat awkwardly.

"W-we should probably go and eat." Leliana nodded, moving to follow Jaiden out of the tent; the Warden turned around, and before the bard could react Jaiden had pressed a kiss to her forehead. It was chaste, more a sign of forgiveness than anything else, but joy flared through Leliana. It felt like a benediction; her fears fell away and she pressed a hand to Jaiden's in thanks. They didn't say anything else. Jaiden stepped out of the tent and Leliana followed, happier than she could remember being in years.

* * *

**Well, hopefully that has (temporarily) sated everyone who was begging me for development :D. Next chapter - something wicked this way comes.**


	20. Hunted By The Past

**Well, I owe one heck of an apology for how long this update's taken. Between my last year of uni, work, receiving a massive crack over the head from RL and writing for Warden's Vigil where I now play four characters (Siali, Nicolette, Anders, and Paige, if you plan on sticking your head in), this fic pretty much slipped to the back of my head for a while, and sporadic attempts to get rolling again were met with writer's block. However, as this monster is one of the longest chapters, I've put out, I'll hope you forgive me. So, sorry for keeping anybody still watching this waiting : )**

**Jaiden is mine. Everybody/thing else belongs to Bioware. **

**-Genjutsu-Dragon-**

**O**

If there was one thing Zevran had not expected when he joined this roaming band of misfits – other than being allowed to live in the first place – it was that he would actually enjoy the company of his new companions. Alistair was especially good fun to tease, particularly as Zevran was fairly certain the templar hadn't even known that men could be attracted to each other, let alone 'do…things', as the blushing Warden had succinctly put it. Alas, there was no persuading him to try and explore the benefits of such a coupling, which was a pity. For all his bumbling and blushing and borderline simple way of looking at the ways of the world, he did have _very_ nice muscles.

If he wanted a little reminder of the arrogance that was a casual attitude amongst Crows, he had originally gone to irritate Morrigan, who had a haughty air that would not have been out of place amongst the masters of that organisation. Of late, she had been distracted by something, and frequently his comments to her were utterly ignored instead of batted back. So instead he had fun aggravating Wynne, who acted like the best of the assassins; sage-like and quick to dispense friendly advice, but always, always cautious.

If he felt like a bit of culture, or simply enjoying the view, he talked to Leliana. The woman could wax lyrical about almost anything and Zevran genuinely enjoyed listening to her. They treated each other as friends by now, but he knew she wouldn't hesitate to turn on him if he turned out to be plotting against their group, and he on her. She might have been softened by two years of having Chantry dogma poured into her ears but she could be refreshingly ruthless when it came to a scrap. And she had delectable curves. His kind of woman, entirely.

He would also have liked to talk to Sten about Par Vollen and find out a little about the land of the qunari, but speaking to the warrior was like attempting to coax conversation from a brick wall. Occasionally he suspected he detected a sense of humour behind Sten's words, albeit a slightly sarcastic one. As it was, most of their time together was spent devising new tactics to send Jaiden reeling into the dust at their next sparring session.

And speaking of the lady herself…

Well, Zevran never hesitated to refer to a woman as a lady, but he did get the impression that calling Jaiden that too often would cause him to get his teeth kicked in. She was a scrawny little streak of blades and messy red hair who apparently had not let life beat her down in the alienage and wouldn't let it as a Warden, despite the interrupted nights of sleep and the little hints Zevran caught from time to time that she didn't expect to live long. She made for an interesting study; her fighting style could be brutal, but according to Alistair and Jaiden herself she had started out not much more than a scrapper and had over the course of her journey become very skilled. Sparring with her took real effort, these days; despite her size, she was strong, and getting unbelievably fast. And she was always watching out for them in battle; Zevran had lost count of the number of times he had seen one member of the party, or even himself been in a predicament only to have the elf come flying out of nowhere to save them. She was compassionate and Zevran now counted her as a firm friend; during the times they had been on watch together she had badgered him for stories of Antiva and the Crows, less professionally curious than with the enthusiasm of an over-grown child. It was endearing, in a way.

As was the developing relationship between her and Leliana.

It seemed to have taken a turn once Alistair had made his feelings for the bard clear. Her run to the tent the moment he was distracted was as good as a rejection and with it came down some wall Jaiden had apparently established to keep herself emotionally detached from the other woman. She had always submitted to the other woman's habits of touching her or fiddling with her hair; Zevran supposed that she let Leliana close because she could fool herself that while the touches were comforting, they were also platonic.

Lately, Jaiden had actually started to return the casual gestures of affection; a brief squeeze of the hand here, an arm around the shoulders there. For as long as Zevran had known her, Jaiden's gaze always went to Leliana first at the end of a fight, although she paid equal attention to each of them in those circumstances, and now friendly concern had developed a slight panicked edge if she thought the bard was injured.

Right now, Zevran was particularly enjoying himself; Leliana had been leaning against the log by the fire, chatting to him, and Jaiden had come and sat down behind her, hands firmly kneading at taut back muscles until the bard's eyes had fluttered shut. Jaiden had seemed a little surprised at herself, but pleased when the Orlesian complimented her massage skills. She had been less pleased when Zevran insisted on a demonstration for himself, and he had fought the urge to laugh at the slightly frustrated look on her face when Leliana walked away to tend to dinner while she was stuck tending to the Crow, who tilted his head back to look at her as her long fingers pressed into his back, offering a wide grin.

"You look somewhat put out, my dear."

Jaiden had been looking over to where Leliana was tending to the food and started when he spoke to her.

"Huh?"

Zevran laughed. "If you're so distracted by a pretty face, my dear, perhaps you would not make the best Crow after all." Jaiden flushed bright pink, which was a rare occurrence, and made Zevran laugh even more. It really clashed with her hair. "Are you annoyed that I demanded your attentions?"

"A little," Jaiden admitted grudgingly. "You could have waited your turn."

"Jaiden, if I had waited my turn, I would have been left sitting there until the archdemon came along personally to swallow you and Alistair." He lowered his voice. "Although I wouldn't have objected if you had let your hands wander a little." Jaiden smacked the top of his head before returning to her ministrations. Zevran groaned a little. Leliana hadn't been flattering her; she really was quite good at this.

"Lech." Her tone carried a faint note of amusement along with the embarrassment his words had caused. Jaiden didn't shock anywhere nearly as easily as Alistair, but it seemed Zevran had found a handy button to press when it came to the topic of attractive women. It had been worth the swats she had given him in the forest when she caught up to him after bringing up the 'Isabella Incident', as he referred to it in his head. Oh, to have been a fly on the wall of that particular captain's cabin.

Before he could make further comment, however, both of their heads snapped up as they caught a sound that didn't fit in with the usual noises of the forest around them. Jaiden did not look around for as long as he did, and turned back to him with a puzzled expression on her face, but he held a finger up to silence her. The pair of them sat silently, listening; the other members of the camp were still making their usual clamour but Zevran was utterly focused on the surrounding area, taking in every detail of the trees around them and whatever lurked within.

His ear twitched; there was a movement within the trees and on instinct he grabbed Jaiden by the collar and pulled her sharply forwards off the log while pitching himself to the side as the pair of arrows that had been aimed at their heads thudded into the ground behind them. They landed in a tangled heap, but Zevran extracted himself quickly and yelled for the others as one of the largest bands of bandits they'd ever seen poured into the camp.

The first man upon him was wearing well-cut leathers and wielded his blades very well – but not well enough. Zevran met his strikes evenly and kicked outwards, knocking the assailant off balance with his foot before plunging the dagger through his back. Jaiden was on her feet as well, nimbly dodging around the sweeping blows of…was that a qunari wielding it?...an enormous axe. His movements were nothing like as efficient as those of Sten's, and Jaiden's sword flicked out, slicing most of the way through the thick neck. The other attackers didn't go for them, but moved around, heading for the others in camp in an unusual formation that left their backs wide open to retribution from himself and Jaiden.

They were looking for something.

Zevran's first thought as he charged and landed on the back of a second qunari was that these people were after the Wardens. Jaiden in her trews and tunic couldn't look less like a warrior of legend if she tried; authority was something she seemed to pull on with her armour. So it would make sense that they would overlook her at first, instead going for Alistair, who actually looked like a leader despite his disinclination towards the role. He fortunately still had his armour on, and although he hadn't finished sharpening his sword he was quick to drop everything unnecessary and enter the fray. Morrigan and Wynne both unleashed a torrent of boulders and ice upon the invaders, freezing most of them in place, and yet they kept coming, moving past the mages, past Alistair and heading for…

Before he could call out to Jaiden there was a flash of red as she sprinted past him, bringing the pommels of her weapons down hard on the helmet of the man going after Leliana. The bard was up and firing arrows into the scuffle, but the mercenaries had their own mages and a bolt hit Leliana square in the chest; Zevran heard Jaiden's cry rise above the clashes of metal and the grunts of the other fighters, but the bard seemed unharmed. However, every time she tried to lift her bow to fire her aim veered wildly. A Misdirection Hex. Catastrophic in a situation like this; Leliana could now do little more than run until the effects wore off. Zevran leapt to the side, his blades slamming into the archer who had been aiming to take advantage of this temporary weakness. Shale rumbled towards them before anybody could try to cut through the elf's injured side, his enormous fists swinging and scattering their attackers quickly; now that they were spaced out they were far easier to deal with, and Jaiden ran to stand in front of Leliana, who had drawn her own blades but still looked woozy, deftly fighting off the last man to lunge at the bard with a quick slice across the throat. The remaining mercenaries did not take long to deal with, leaving just the one Jaiden had stunned lying on the ground. The moment Jaiden had checked Leliana was alright, she stormed over to the man, pressing a foot on his chest and raising her sword to take off his head.

Leliana darted over, managing to catch Jaiden's wrist before she could drive home the blow.

"Stop! Don't kill him!"

Zevran braced his hands against his thighs as he leaned forward, catching his breath. Fighting without armour was difficult and the mercenaries had presented a considerable challenge. Apparently they'd overestimated their own abilities, though. Personally, he would have waited until watch was set up, and then picked them off with arrows before killing the rest of them in their sleep. It was the method he would have used had he actually intended to succeed in killing the Wardens. In the meantime…

Why was Leli demanding that Jaiden spare this man? Was it the same practicality that had caused her to support him when he lay at the wrong end of Jaiden's sword?

Jaiden met Leliana's eyes with an expression between annoyance and confusion, for which the ex-Crow could not blame her. "Leliana-"

"You know this wasn't an ordinary attack. Their weapons and armour are of fine make, and they are well-trained." The bard's eyes shifted to the man on the ground, and instead of merciful her gaze was hard. There was to be no talk of the Maker here. "You know what I am talking about. Who are you?"

There was a faintly ironic twist to the man's mouth; he had nerve in the face of his death, Zevran had to give him that.

"Someone who regrets taking you on." He reached upwards and Jaiden's blade pressed further into his neck, but he only removed his helmet, revealing the gigantic bruise where the edge had crushed into him when Jaiden slammed him with her weapons. "We were told it'd be an easy job. Kill the little red-haired girl…" the direction of his glance spoke as clearly as the general direction of the fight had – "and deal with the others as we pleased."

"So you were trying to kill me." Leliana's expression shifted almost imperceptibly from hard to afraid; she controlled it well, and Zevran might not have noticed had he been watching her face. Jaiden, meanwhile, looked as though she wanted to hack the man's head off then and there; sensibly, she kept herself controlled, perhaps realising that more questions needed to be asked first. "Who sent you? Why am I wanted dead?"

The man shrugged, as much as he was able to on his back with a sword point at his throat. "I don't ask questions like that. Causes trouble further down the line if I pass it on to somebody else by accident. I'm a mercenary, not a secret-keeper."

"So you have nothing useful to tell us?"

Zevran couldn't recall Jaiden's voice ever sounding colder. Apparently the man realised that he was going to die a quick and undignified death if he didn't talk, so he very quickly replied.

"Wait. I do have information." He looked up at Jaiden. "Maybe we could work something out?"

"Speak quickly."

No sign of a promise from Leliana there, but the man would have to take it.

"I've no real quarrel with you. Wasn't me that wanted you dead." He looked around the group, his expression shifting from laconic to sly. "But I can tell you where to find the one that does."

Jaiden simply gave a curt nod.

"I have some directions written down on how to get to the house. It's in Denerim. 'S best I can do."

"Thank you." Leliana's eyes were narrowed, but there were still signs of fear evident in the shaking of her hands as she crossed them. "Now, leave."

"Are you sure?" Jaiden looked across at the bard. "Isn't it better if whoever hired him doesn't know he failed?"

Sound thinking to Zevran's mind. But Leliana shook her head.

"No. He won't attack us again. Please?"

Jaiden stared at her for a few moments, but then nodded again, grimacing as she lifted her sword from the man's throat. The mercenary was obviously smart enough not to waste his chance at freedom and got up, limping off into the surrounding forest as fast as his injuries would let him.

Leliana slumped on the log while Alistair and Sten started dragging the bodies away from camp and picking up pieces of armour, assessing what could be sold later on. Jaiden left the bard for now, sorting through the discarded weapons, although she lifted her head, meeting Zevran's eyes briefly, before her hand pointed into the trees where the man had limped off.

Zevran recognised that gesture. _You know what to do._ He nodded, waiting until everybody's attention was occupied with clearing up the mess before following the messy trail the mercenary had left behind. No sense in leaving a loose end.

OOO

When he returned, most of the camp had returned to gather around Leliana, and apparently his timing had been fortuitous; the bard was just starting to speak, less offering an opinion on the attack than knowing exactly who it was who had sent the mercenaries after her.

"It's Marjolaine." Leliana buried her face in her hands, muffling her voice. "It has to be."

Jaiden settled beside her; everybody else hovered. "Why now?" Levi had emerged from his hiding place now, looking between the elf and the obviously distraught Orlesian with complete confusion.

The bard's shoulders rose and lowered. "I don't know. Maybe somebody saw me?" After a few moments, she seemed to gather herself, and sat up. "I have to go and settle this. I – I'll go to Denerim, try to sort things out and then…then if I can sort things, I'll come and find you again."

"No." Jaiden moved around to kneel in front of Leliana, a hand coming up to touch the bard's cheek. Alistair coughed and looked away. "We're all going. One of the first things Duncan taught me about the Wardens is that they're supposed to be loyal to their friends, and even if he hadn't, I wouldn't abandon any of us to be hunted down by a treacherous bardmaster."

"Jaiden, is this wise?" Wynne, ever the voice of reason, spoke up, but Zevran knew even before she spoke that her advice was not going to be taken well. "We only have so much time before the Blight hits; I'm already uneasy about bypassing the Dalish clans to go to Soldier's Peak. And somebody might recognise you in Denerim…"

"We're going." Jaiden frequently gave orders, but this was only the second time Zevran had heard such steel behind the elf's voice – the first being the time she had trounced Sten and told him to get back in line. "There's no sense in anybody in our group having to constantly look over their shoulder while we try to deal with the Blight. It's better to eliminate the threat as quickly as possible so everybody can devote their full attention to retrieving the treaties."

Wynne started saying something back, but Zevran's attention shifted as he took note of Morrigan's expression at this. Instead of sneering, the witch was looking at Jaiden with something that was equal parts fear and hope. She needed something from their leader - that much was certain, but for some reason she had not ventured it yet. Perhaps she had her own demons chasing her; that would explain why her usual arguments with Alistair had lacked some of their spark of late. The golden eyes lifted and met his gaze; after a few seconds she managed to affect her usual supercilious curl of the lip, but not nearly fast enough for Zevran to dismiss what he'd seen.

_Very interesting._

He turned his focus back on Jaiden. Wynne seemed to have backed down; Zevran had known she would. The elder mage made an effort to look at the big picture most of the time, but she was not above being swayed by her personal attachments. It was smart of Jaiden to pull on them. The bard treated Wynne with a great deal of respect and a certain, almost daughterly affection that was sorely lacking from the rest of their part. Of course, Zevran had long since offered his services in warming Wynne's bed, and as he had expected she had rebuffed him pretty much instantly. She had secrets of her own, but whatever those were, they did not compensate for the fact that she genuinely cared for the bard and didn't want to see her hurt.

Jaiden had gone into her tent to retrieve her maps and begin planning a quick route to Denerim; even though Zevran had ensured that they had the element of surprise, it would be quickly lost if they did not return before the mercenaries had been expected back and Marjolaine's suspicions were raised. Zevran knew enough of the bardmasters that he could expect her to be prepared for trouble anyway, but there was no sense in giving her an edge.

Leliana escaped into her tent and Zevran followed her progress with his gaze. He wouldn't be surprised if the bard, out of a misplaced sense of nobility (and fear for Jaiden) made a bolt for it tonight, but he was reasonably confident that if she tried they could use Boy to track her down. He had to agree with Wynne's initial assessment; technically they didn't have time to be going to Soldier's Peak, let alone detour to Denerim to take care of a problem that only really affected one party member. Then again, short of abandoning Leliana to the wolves, their only recourse was to deal with the problem at its source and take out Marjolaine. Whether the bard would have the strength to try and kill her former mentor was something for Zevran to worry about when they got there. Jaiden had proved herself somewhat ruthless when it came to protecting their group – as the now deceased mercenary lying with his throat cut in the woods demonstrated – and if Leliana didn't finish her, Jaiden probably would.

Zevran wasn't sure if Leliana would forgive Jaiden if it came to that.

He sighed, gathering all the remaining armour they could carry into one pack that Alistair would probably be bullied in carrying until they ran into a trader. This would all be so much easier on his mind if only he could watch the women sharing a tender moment for a while.

OOO

Leliana had her armour on already; all that really needed to be done was to pack up her bedroll and slide her pack underneath the back of the tent and then following after it. The canvas would block whoever was on watch tonight – she hadn't really been paying attention when they were allocated – from seeing her, and even if they heard her she would be well into the dark forest and nearly impossible to place before they could follow her.

Her insides were cramping and she had to fight back tears. Two years. She had been gone from Orlais for two years, and knowing that Marjolaine was still paranoid enough about the possibility of her sharing what she knew (although nobody would believe her) that she'd hired apparently quite expensive mercenaries to track her down. They'd been strong enough that Marjolaine also had to know who she was travelling with. And that made Leliana scared because by travelling with them, she'd inadvertently put the only two people with a chance of defeating the Blight at risk. And that she more than cared for one of them…

She started at the sound of the tent flap opening, turning as sharply as she could on her knees, half-expecting another mercenary to come charging in. Instead, Jaiden stepped in. She had her bedroll tucked under one arm.

"Jaiden, what are you doing?"

"Making sure you don't run off during the night." Jaiden set her bedroll alongside Leliana's. She turned her head towards the bard, offering her a smile. In the dim light shining through the canvas, her scar was barely visible, and Leliana realised she hadn't really noticed it in a long time. "I take it that was what you were planning to do, right? Sneak out the back of the tent so Sten and Zevran didn't catch you on watch."

This had pretty much exactly been Leliana's idea, as much as though of actually running away from a group of people who were the closest thing she had to friends had made her gut wrench.

Not as badly as it was doing right now, however, with Jaiden preparing to bed down right beside her. Leliana couldn't help replaying the kiss Jaiden had pressed to her forehead the night her scars were revealed, and as much as she kept telling herself that it was wrong, that Jaiden was a Warden and had her duties and really, really didn't need a lovelorn Orlesian minstrel following her about, she still hoped…

Jaiden removed her armour, stacking it outside to air, but to Leliana's mixed reaction of relief and disappointment, kept her trews and tunic on as she wriggled into her blankets. She then propped herself up on her elbow, looking up at Leliana expectantly, and it took the bard a few moments to realise that Jaiden was indicating that she do the same.

"Could…could you look away?" Leliana was ashamed to hear her voice trembling. "I'm not going to run, I just…" This was ridiculous. She would be separated from the elf by several layers of blankets and clothing, but it still felt far too close, and not close enough. Maker help her, she didn't know what she wanted to do more now; run out of the tent as fast as her feet could carry her, or curl up beside Jaiden and let herself imagine that she never had to leave the tent again.

Jaiden accepted her request, tucking an arm under her head and shutting her eyes. This gave her face the same vulnerability Leliana had noticed the first night in camp, and once Leliana had pulled off her own armour she knelt on her bedroll and looked down at the Warden. Despite herself her hand went out and brushed against the elf's cheek.

Jaiden caught it, her eyes opening, looking up at Leliana with a measured gaze before pulling the hand to her mouth and kissing the back. The touch of the Warden's lips against her skin sent an involuntary shiver through the bard and when Jaiden sat back up, her other hand creeping around Leliana's side and pulling the bard to her, Leliana couldn't think of a single reason to resist. Those pale green eyes were hidden behind the lids again as Jaiden shut them and then kissed Leliana directly on the mouth.

Merciful Maker, but the simple touch utterly weakened Leliana's resolve to leave. She found herself cupping the elf's face as she returned it, feeling Jaiden's arm wrap around her waist possessively. It was good, better than good – without motivation behind the kiss, for information or to gain trust, she had never experienced a kiss like it, and Leliana let herself become almost drunk on it, on the feel of Jaiden and her smell that was like leather and woods and rough lye soap, with the almost imperceptible musky scent that was Jaiden herself.

It was that which caused her to finally push herself away; Jaiden's eyes were shining, her lips slightly swollen from the kiss, and with a flush that Leliana had rarely seen painting the Warden's cheeks. At any other time – a few hours earlier, even – she would have giggled, knowing her expression was almost an exact match, before claiming Jaiden's mouth again, and let herself become completely lost.

But now…if, when they came up against Marjolaine, her former mentor noticed the feeling she harboured for the Warden…the bardmaster would have no hesitation in exploiting the knowledge, using it to torture Leliana a last time before trying to kill her. She couldn't, wouldn't let what the elf felt for her be Jaiden's downfall. If the Warden was to die because of her…

She pulled away. "I can't." Leliana shut her eyes, turning her face away from Jaiden, desperate not to see the heartbroken look that would surely cross the elf's face. Tears seeped across her cheeks before she could stop them.

Familiar hands reached up and brushed across her face, wiping away the tears. "Then don't." Jaiden's voice was soft. "Until you're ready. When you feel safe again."

_After Marjolaine is dead._

She knew Jaiden couldn't promise that she could defeat the bardmaster. Marjolaine had not become who she was without years of practice and Jaiden only had what she had learnt in scraps of practice with her mother and everything she had fought against in the last few months. But Leliana couldn't stop herself latching on to the hope that she would succeed, somehow – without actually killing the woman she had once loved. Despite everything Marjolaine had done, she couldn't help remembering how tender the bardmaster had once been, how she had coaxed the very best from Leliana with acclamation, and when she was taken to Marjolaine's bed for the first time how very gently the other woman had explored her, kissing away her nervousness and uttering soft assurances until Leliana was no longer afraid.

Whether that softer woman had existed at all or just been an act for Leliana's benefit, the bard did not want to know. All she wanted was to be safe in the knowledge that the woman would not hurt Jaiden. Or anybody else in their group, for that matter. To that end, she might have to give herself up to Marjolaine, and she knew instinctively that Jaiden wouldn't allow it.

Maker, she couldn't see a way out of this.

But she curled up under her blankets and turned her back on Jaiden. They would go to Denerim. Face Marjolaine, and then…

Whatever the Maker willed.

The aphorism did not comfort her as much as it had whenever she had used it before.

A hand slipped around her and Leliana tensed as she felt Jaiden huddling up against her; there were still several layers in the way, but it still felt too close. The elf was warm and as Leliana lay there, Jaiden leant up; there was a brush of breath against the bard's ear that made her desperately want to roll back over and keep kissing the elf.

"It'll be all right, Leliana. Trust me."

She couldn't. But despite herself, Leliana found herself relaxing in the elf's arms, lulled just by her Warden's presence.

Her Warden. For better or for worse, she could think that now.

Her roiling thoughts kept her awake for some time after Jaiden's breathing had evened out into the gentle measures of sleep, but gradually, she felt herself succumbing; she let exhaustion claim her, pulling her under into dreams both troubled and hopeful.

**O**

***ducks from onslaught of arrows for Leliana pulling away*. Hope that was a good return to form for you all. Next chapter – the group returns to Denerim…**


	21. Hard Decisions

At long last, RL is easing. I've left uni now, so should be able to begin regular updates once again, and the muse has finally made a return. Thank you for everybody who's reviewed (I'm sorry if I didn't reply to all of them!) and kept me going by letting me know via review and story alert that they want this to keep going. The next update will be within the next week, I just need to polish out the details. Thank you everybody who's stuck with this despite the long wait!

-Genjutsu-Dragon-

* * *

The journey back to Denerim took around a week, and was perhaps the most silent Alistair could remember. Leliana looked increasingly pale and quite ill the closer they got to the capital, and the Warden suspected that she was not sleeping well. Quite possibly her nightmares had affected Jaiden, who was still sharing her tent – or perhaps Jaiden's nightmares kept the bard awake – and the elf looked increasingly – well, _flinty_ was the only way Alistair could think of to describe that expression. If looks could cut through walls then Marjolaine and half of Denerim would already be a bloody heap even at this distance. And every day she marched a little faster, as though being drawn in by some inexorable force; Alistair was afraid that by the time they confronted the bardmaster, Jaiden would be rushed and reckless. He knew bugger all about what the bards were capable of against a Warden, but he knew she couldn't afford to be either of those things if all of them were to get out of this alive.

Concern for his fellow Warden helped him swallow the bitterness at the back of his throat. He didn't resent Jaiden herself, exactly. It was just beyond his comprehension how the attraction worked. He'd seen Jaiden after the attack, standing outside Leliana's tent with her bedroll under one arm, looking so nervous that he'd almost had to laugh. She had hovered for ages before letting out a long exhale and pushing her way in, and he knew for certain at that point that Jaiden's feelings for the bard went beyond the physical. There'd been – stories – that had been passed around the dormitories of the chantry and amongst templar initiates, of women and what they liked to do together in their free time, and it had all sounded complicated and a bit confusing to the Warden at the time. Knowing what was likely going on in the tent did little to quell this confusion, and Alistair's ears burned to even think about them doing…that, so he tried to focus on the important aspects. Leliana was being threatened, and regardless of how they got along, the party was banding together to help her.

And keep an eye on her. Alistair knew he wasn't the most observant of people outside combat, but he didn't miss the way that when Jaiden wasn't close, Zevran or Wynne's eyes were on Leliana; usually through simply engaging her in conversation, but even when the bard was settled alone at the edge of camp, her mind obviously elsewhere as she worried her lower lip with her teeth, there was always at least one pair of eyes pointed in her direction. Jaiden had given no direct order about watching over the woman, but it felt as much a part of duty now as setting up camp or fetching water for the group. Any lingering resentment aside, Alistair did truly care for Leliana, and the thought of what she'd gone through at the hands of the vile woman who had sent the mercenaries after her made the ex-templar's jaw clench. Nobody deserved that sort of betrayal, even with a past as shady as the bard's had been.

Leliana was getting quieter and paler the closer they got to the capital, and Alistair was seriously worrying about her health by the time they came in sight of the city walls. The bard looked so unsteady that she was openly leaning on Jaiden as they passed through the city gates, their little group passing mercifully unnoticed by the guards. Shale had been told to keep back, as the presence of a golem would bring too much attention, but everybody else was going in case Marjolaine had mercenaries; Alistair had half-heartedly suggested that they split into a couple of small groups to detract suspicion, and was surprised when Jaiden praised it as a great idea, albeit in a slightly stoic fashion. He'd been pleased to feel like he was actually contributing, regardless, and that was how they entered; Alistair and Leliana, who was hooded and cloaked, as a husband and wife, with Jaiden as their servant. Zevran and Morrigan posed as a couple of exotic travellers and Wynne went with Sten, who served as her qunari 'bodyguard'. Boy simply slipped in alone amongst the crowds. The excuses they had come up with were flimsy at best, but apparently with the distraction of the city preparing for the Landsmeet, the guards were not being particular strenuous about looking out for the wanted Wardens. Group by group they filtered through the city their separate ways, arriving at their arranged destination – a tavern by the name of the Gilded Copper – within an hour of each other. Once their rooms were arranged, Zevran went out to locate the address the mercenary had given them, as well as check for any obvious traps in the area, and Alistair paced restlessly around his room.

He'd been scared so many times since Ostagar. Waking up in the Korcari Wilds and thinking that Jaiden was dead and that he was the last of the Wardens; every time he had seen a companion knocked down in battle (even Morrigan), every time they faced off against an emissary, against the dragon in the mountains, watching with his heart in his mouth as Jaiden was being flipped up in the air, running over to gawp in horror at her bleeding body after she'd nearly been crushed to death by the ogre. There had been a lot of fighting to the point of exhaustion and well beyond, and treks with pebbles and mud in boots that rubbed his feet to blisters but they had to keep walking because they had so little time…Alistair had accepted these things as necessity, part of their duty. But right now he was angry, his loathing for Marjolaine almost as deep as that for Loghain. Both had turned on the people who trusted them with their lives and abandoned them to their deaths. It was just fortunate for Leliana that she had escaped to get her revenge, just as it was fortunate for Alistair. He felt a vague sense of kinship over this situation that surprised him, although he inferred from what Jaiden had told him that whereas Loghain had barely acknowledged Alistair's existence, Marjolaine and Leliana had been…involved…with each other. Which of course made it that much worse.

Alistair had never felt the urge to punch a woman so strongly, and while he would only raise his sword if she proved a genuine threat, he found himself hoping that she would just give him an excuse. It was not a feeling he particularly enjoyed, so he went to seek out his companions to distract himself, hoping to get Leliana to tell him stories so that they could both be effectively distracted from what was to come.

Unsurprisingly, Leliana was not in the mood to talk, and she turned him away politely. Grousing to himself, Alistair headed downstairs and took a seat at one of the tables, ordering a pitcher of ale. He didn't normally drink much and knew he really shouldn't with what they were about to do, but what else was there to do right now? There was barely space in his room to swing a cat, let alone a sword, so he settled down with his ale and hoped the alcohol would take the edge off his restlessness.

After a few minutes of deciding that sitting in a tavern alone and watching other people eat was not only really boring but making him hungry, Alistair looked up to see Jaiden approaching the table, Boy at her side. He pushed out one of the chairs with his foot and his fellow Warden accepted the invitation, sitting with a sigh. Alistair gestured for another tankard and offered Jaiden some of his ale, which she accepted very quickly. The mabari curled up at her feet and dozed. "Where's Leliana?"

"Sleeping. Wynne's keeping an eye on her." Alistair looked closely at Jaiden's face; she was looking really quite careworn. "She needs to be rested before tonight."

"Mmhm." The ex-templar examined the bags under Jaiden's eyes, the slightly pinched expression, the slow blink that accompanied tiredness. "And how have you been sleeping, Jaiden?" He was concerned; now that they had reached Denerim, all the fury fuelling Jaiden's quick march seemed to have transferred to him and she just looked exhausted. Jaiden drummed her fingers on the top of her tankard.

"Not well," she admitted. "Between my nightmares and Leliana's, it doesn't feel like I've slept the last couple of weeks."

Alistair frowned. His own nightmares had not been noticeably worse the last couple of weeks, but he had to suppose that sharing a tent with somebody who periodically woke you up with the horrible begging screams for mercy that he'd occasionally heard Leliana make couldn't be helping. "You really need to get some sleep before we face Marjolaine," he commented. "I don't know what a bardmaster is capable of, but if she's anything like Leliana we're in for a rough fight."

Jaiden surprised him by leaning forward to rest her forehead against the table and grumbling into the wood. "I know," she replied, slightly muffled. "I really want to sleep. But whenever I shut my eyes I just think of that hateful _bitch_ and I wake up again wanting to strangle something." She sat up again, her expression weary and – to Alistair's shock – slightly pleading. "Al, what am I supposed to do? If I kill her, Leli might hate me for it. If I don't, she'll hurt Leli. I mean, I'm not going to let her do that if I can help it, but I just don't see a way out of this that doesn't end badly."

Alistair blinked at her as he registered the 'Al'. He'd noticed that Jaiden had taken to shortening Leliana and Zevran's names, but he found it weirdly touching that she did the same for him. Even more so that she was seeking out advice from him, despite the fact that she'd been the leader the entire way since Ostagar. He reached out to pat her shoulder in a manner he hoped that was reassuring. "You'll find a way," he said, feeling like a worm for not being able to give a proper answer. "You got the Ashes, right? And that was supposed to be impossible. _And _you took down a dragon. What's one woman against that?"

Jaiden gave a slightly wavering smile. "Thank you, Al." She squeezed the hand on her shoulder as Alistair blinked, amazed that he'd sort of said the right thing for once. "It's just a different situation, though. Nobody was emotionally attached to the dragon." Jaiden's eyebrow lifted, a slight glimmer of humour appearing for a moment. "And if you're about to tell me otherwise I'm going to be really worried."

Alistair chuckled, and Jaiden leaned back in her chair, draping her arms over the back. "I'll be glad to get out of Denerim," the ex-templar commented after a moment, drawing a nod of agreement from the elf, who looked pensive for a moment, chewing on her lower lip.

"The alienage gates are still locked," she said, quietly. "It's been months since…" Jaiden's voice fell away for a moment; she cleared her throat and tried again. "…They'll be finding ways of getting food in, but it's going to be horrible in there by now." Alistair recalled Jaiden's flight when she'd learnt of what had become of the alienage, and he wondered if her tears had not been better than the dull, resigned tone in her voice right now. It was as if she was expecting to discover that her relatives and friends had not survived the lockdown, once it was over. Not a good attitude to go up against a trained bard with. Alistair tapped her arm, drawing her attention back to him.

"If they're anything like you, they'll be just fine."

Jaiden looked at him with the oddly mask-like expression that she adopted when she was turning over something painful or complex in her head. It was very difficult to work out what she was thinking when she did that, and Alistair had been glad as the occasions when that expression made an appearance began to decrease, and she more willingly shared ideas with them. Eventually, she blinked, her face setting into a pensive mien. "Hopefully." It was an acceptance of the compliment, and Alistair took it as such. They lapsed into silence again, but Alistair didn't feel as uncomfortable as he expected, or the need to fill up the air with chatter and jokes. They were both waiting for Zevran to return now, and when he did there would be plenty to talk about.

The Crow breezed in only a few minutes later, settling himself at the table and ordering some wine from the waitress with his usual aplomb. The woman was evidently startled by the idea of meeting an elf with manners, as she gawped at him for a moment before Jaiden's narrowed eyes sent her on her heel to fetch Zevran's order. Once she was gone, the Crow's cheery air fell away and he became focused. Alistair watched in poorly-disguised fascination as Zevran spoke about the alleyway outside the house, the guards, the opportunities for traps, the various escape routes he had been able to observe, all from a brief examination of the house. He wondered if he would ever be able to do that – simply look and take in _everything_, rather than let his eyes ghost over things until something interesting caught his attention.

Zevran pinched him to make sure he was concentrating on the plans being made and Alistair harrumphed briefly, rubbing his arm, before leaning forward to piece together their attack.

* * *

The house was well-guarded. Of course it was. Marjolaine would have known from the failure of her hired thugs to return that Leliana still lived, and likely had prepared herself accordingly. That was if she wasn't prepared at all times for every eventuality anyway – but did she know of the Wardens, and what they were capable of? Leliana wasn't sure, just as she wasn't sure that despite the knowledge she'd imparted of the bardmaster's skills, that the Wardens would be prepared for Marjolaine. Jaiden's intense, focused silence felt like the calm before a terrible storm, but storms were unpredictable things and Leliana was beyond terrified that her former mentor would find a weak spot to exploit – even outside of battle. The things that Marjolaine could reveal about what Leliana had done would be sure to utterly destroy what Jaiden felt for her.

She stood near the back of the group, Wynne beside her and Alistair on the other. She could easily incapacitate either and run, but she suspected that the reason they were in this formation was because Jaiden knew she would find it almost impossible to bring herself to do it to those two. The only person she was least likely to hurt was Jaiden, who was flanking Sten with Zevran. Morrigan had inscribed a glyph of paralysis on the ground outside the house, ready for the first guards to come out and patrol the area.

Leliana couldn't recall ever having felt so frightened. Not even when the guards had shown her the documents with 'her' signature on it, and dragged her out of her home. Then, the fear that had taken her was tempered by crushing despair at realising the woman she loved had turned on her, without so much as a second thought. Now, she didn't just have to worry about herself, but her companions, her friends, her Warden…even if Jaiden's life hardened her to what Leliana had done, what about the rest of them? Dear Alistair who was trying so hard to be supportive and not let his feelings get in the way of what had developed between his crush and his best friend. Wynne with the noble air, who always seemed to know and follow the right way to live. Zevran would be fine with it, Sten stoic, Morrigan scathing at her 'fall' from bard to Chantry sister. But they'd definitely all treat her differently – perhaps cautiously, as a potential threat – if Marjolaine was allowed time to speak.

Could she run, still? Simply take two steps back and flee?

No, because if she did, Jaiden would barge in there and there would be nothing to stop Leliana's former lover from sharing all of her secrets, everything she'd done, and ensured that even if they did all get out of this alive Jaiden would never even look at her again, much less spend the night in her tent and wrap her arm around her waist, always there and ready to comfort whenever Leliana awoke screaming. The night before they arrived in Denerim, Jaiden had pressed a hand to her back when she thought Leliana was sleeping, and the bard had felt the elf trace over her scars through her tunic. She didn't know what was going through Jaiden's mind when she did that. Was she horrified by the damage still but compelled to touch it, or was it just that the Warden simply didn't care, but was drawing strength for this battle from the knowledge of what Marjolaine had caused?

The door opened, and Leliana felt Alistair's hand at her back. She looked up to meet his eyes, as well as she could in the darkness.

"We'll keep you safe," he murmured. Wynne's hand squeezed Leliana's shoulder, and Jaiden reached a hand back to catch her fingers briefly. Boy butted the back of her leg gently with his head. Morrigan remained aloof, of course, and Zevran dipped his head to her briefly. Sten offered a few words of his own.

"You know your enemy, but she does not know us. Stand strong, bard." It wasn't delivered with any attempt at easing her mind; it was an order to keep herself focused, but Leliana drew comfort from the fact that even Sten was making the effort. She drew in a long breath and tried to settle into the space in her mind she had once known well, when her blades and not her bow were her weapons of choice, and she could kill an enemy with barely a flicker of conscience.

The guards stepped out of the door, and straight into the trap. Frozen in place, they weren't even able to cry a warning as Zevran and Jaiden slipped towards them and slammed the pommels of their weapons into the men's necks, catching the unconscious bodies before they hit the ground. Jaiden signalled, and the Crow headed in ahead of the rest of them, checking for traps. There were none…but there were several more guards at the bottom of the stairs, including a qunari.

Then there was no room for thought, as Leliana managed to find that space in her mind where she could cut down enemies with impunity, her bow picking off three men in short order as Sten charged the other qunari, his usual battle cries silenced in an attempt to avoid warning the woman lurking inside that they'd arrived. Zevran and Jaiden were acting as two halves of a whole again, and if she'd had time to think about it Leliana would have wished she could wield her blades with that skill again, so she could fight alongside her Warden instead of having to stay back and watch Jaiden haring off yet again into the thick of battle. As it was, she focused all her attention on the enemy, as well as deftly unarming any traps she could spot in the room.

It was only a matter of minutes before all the guards were dead or unconscious, and Leliana shouldered her bow again, heading for the door; she checked it thoroughly for traps, her heart sinking when she found none.

Marjolaine had expected her to come.

Pulling in a deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped forward.

Her former bardmaster was standing in the middle of the room, looking as relaxed as she would have in Orlais when her guests for the evening arrived, happy in the knowledge that she not only held all the aces but had a couple of extra ones up her sleeves for emergencies. Her face broke into a wide, quite genuine-looking smile on seeing Leliana, and the former bard tried not to cower away from her. Two years had dulled the memories of how beautiful Marjolaine was, and she had barely changed since the last time Leliana had seen her; her body was still pleasing even under her dress, her hair was still thick, luscious, and brown with not a trace of grey, her face clear of all by the tiniest of laughter lines, brown eyes lit by that cheer Leliana remembered and had welcomed whenever she saw it, because she knew she'd done well.

She didn't want to see that look on Marjolaine's face now. It felt like she'd stumbled right into a trap.

Marjolaine opened her arms wide as though expecting her former protégée to rush into them, and ridiculously, insanely, Leliana felt her foot twitch forward, a fantasy that had been formed in the Chantry coming to the fore now; that her bardmaster would accept her back, shower her with affection, and tell her that the last two years had been a test and that Leliana had done well, and now she could go back to Orlais and not have to worry about visions or the Maker or the Blight…

Except, she realised now, she didn't want to go back. That part of her life, the duplicity, the betrayals, the casual ruination of careers and lives, was done, and she didn't want it back. She drew strength from this as Marjolaine began to speak.

"Leliana! Oh, it is so lovely to see you again my dear!" Marjolaine gave no sign that she'd noticed any of the other companions enter the room; Leliana smelt pine and blood as Jaiden drew up alongside her.

"Spare me your pleasantries," Leliana snarled. She could do this. She wasn't going to be cowed by this woman. "I know you're-" Marjolaine just talked as though she hadn't heard Leliana speak at all.

"Oh, you must excuse the shabby accommodations," she said, gesturing around the room, which was rather sparsely decorated – for ease of moving out and not leaving a trace of her presence, Leliana recognised. There were a few keepsakes and bits of colour around to draw the eye, but these would be there to serve as distractions for anybody who wasn't Marjolaine. "I try to be a good host, but you see what I have to work with!" He gaze dropped to Boy, the first acknowledgement that there were other people in the room, although Leliana knew Marjolaine would have taken in every detail about her companions within seconds of them entering the door. The bardmaster's lip curled in distaste. "Everything smells like wet dog. Even now it is my clothes, my hair…ugh."

"Why did you send assassins after Leliana?" Even as the bard's confidence started to fail her, thrown off by just how casual Marjolaine seemed about this and knowing that it meant, Jaiden stepped up, glowering at the bardmaster, clearly in no mood to wait for the woman to get to the point. Marjolaine arched an eyebrow at her, apparently amused by the sight of the angry elf.

"How direct, for one so young," she commented. "But I suppose it is to be expected. After all, you carry quite the burden, don't you? Both of you." Her eyes shifted towards Alistair, and lit slightly with approval. "My, you're a handsome one. Although you should smile more." Leliana looked over to see Alistair with an uncharacteristically furious expression; his fist was clenching, apparently fighting the urge to simply punch Marjolaine. She then looked across at Jaiden, who was less obviously angry, but she was giving Marjolaine a look that chilled the bone.

_Please, please don't do anything rash._

Marjolaine chuckled; a rich sound. "Well, now that is a turn of events I did not predict," she smirked, and Leliana's head snapped up as she realised her mistake. "Somebody has a soft spot for the Elf Warden, hmm?" She clapped her hands and laughed. "What a delightful idea, Leliana! You get their friendship and then you try to coax them into more, thus assuring their loyalty. Time has not dulled your instincts, I see."

"No!" Leliana couldn't help her response; she looked desperately at Jaiden. "I wouldn't do that…" _not to you…_

"Although you should have practiced hiding your emotions better," Marjolaine continued, completely ignoring Leliana's outburst. "I mean, I am fond of you, but I never let it go beyond that. To let yourself fall for the woman properly, it is an amateur's mistake." The bardmaster eyed Jaiden. "And a little odd, if truth be told. I can see the appeal; the spark in the green eyes, the delicacy of her body, the colour of the hair. She could be made quite beautiful, given the right accoutrements. But in these conditions? With that scar? I find it odd you did not turn your attention to seducing him." She tilted her head towards Alistair.

"They're my friends," Leliana tried again, and Marjolaine laughed.

"Yes, cherie, of course they are. You trained them to be. Just as I trained you." Marjolaine stepped forward, a predatory gleam in her eyes that Leliana remembered well and even now sent a shiver through her that was not of a fearful nature. "You remember those nights, I see. When I learned everything about you, you were willing to give me everything, and I let you learn only a little of me."

Red coloured Leliana's cheeks and she dipped her head, not looking at Jaiden as Marjolaine addressed the elf directly. "If you have not already, you should see her in such a state, my dear. She makes such a beautiful picture and such delightful sounds when she-"

"Parshaara!" Sten glared down at the bardmaster. "We are not here to listen to your taunts. It is a weak and ignorant foe who seeks to undermine their enemy through such means. It implies they are incapable of facing them fairly."

The mask of good cheer and welcome slipped away from Marjolaine's face as she looked up at Sten. "Hold your tongue, tal'vashoth," she said, coldly. Sten started forwards, one hand reaching over his head for Asala, clearly intent on striking down the woman where she stood. Jaiden held up her hand and Sten stopped, his usual frown forsaken in favour of murderous rage. Leliana didn't know what Marjolaine had called him, but if it was enough to make Sten react like that…

Jaiden pulled her sword from her back and rested it on her shoulder, green eyes narrowing. "Explanation. Now."

Marjolaine shrugged. "Do I owe you one, elf?"

"You framed me." Leliana's voice was quiet and she could feel tears rising in her throat. That cold woman who had addressed Sten – had it been her who looked down at Leliana every night, deciding she was useful enough to keep for another day? Until she was no longer so? "Had me caught. And tortured. I…I thought here, I would be free of you." Maker damn it, she was supposed to be _strong_ about this, prove to Marjolaine she was not afraid… "what happened to make you hate me? Why do you want me dead?"

"Oh, I didn't want you dead, my dear," Marjolaine said with a shrug, her movements languid once more. "Those assassins were a message, and I knew you'd be able to cope perfectly well, especially with your companions. I knew you'd find your way back to me from them, and see? Here you are. Obviously you were simply waiting for an excuse to see me."

"That's not true!" Leliana clenched her fists. "After what you did to me I would have been happy if I never saw you again!"

Marjolaine smiled widely. "And yet, you still sought me out. I think you protest too much."

"We went after you because with the Blight and everything, we didn't want to have to deal with assassins in our camp on a regular basis." Jaiden spoke slowly, as though addressing a moron. Marjolaine's eyes narrowed. "Leliana volunteered to leave us, and tried to escape our company. It was _my_ decision to come here and deal with you."

"Oho, is that what you think? Or have you considered that Leliana is even more wily than you suspected?" Leliana saw Jaiden's jaw clench, her scar whitening with the tension. Marjolaine turned back to her before the bard could do anything to protest this. "In truth, I am here because you have secrets of mine. I need to keep a close eye on you to ensure those secrets do not get shared." Her smile took on a terrifying aspect. "Did you think I did not know where you were? Did you think I would not watch my Leliana? You were my brightest star, and such a long way you fell – I was not surprised when you escaped, but after that, well, I was confused. What is she up to, I wondered? The quiet life, peasant clothing, ragged hair like a boy. That was not the woman who used to love me combing her hair, styling it for the evening, and could spend hours picking out the perfect pair of shoes to complement a ravishing dress. Clearly you were up to something."

"I was _hiding_," Leliana insisted, her heart pounding in her chest. She'd been watched all this time? Which meant somebody she'd known at the Chantry – somebody she might have called a friend – had been relaying messages back to the woman who betrayed her. "And trying to find absolution. I do not walk your path any more, Marjolaine."

The bardmaster snorted. "You were bored," she stated. "When the Wardens came along that must have been the highlight of your years there. Within half an hour of hearing that they were in Lothering you were making arrangements to leave. That does not sound like a life dedicated to your Maker. You almost had my fooled, you know; for a while, I was almost convinced that was what you had chosen to do with your life, and mourned the loss of your potential. And then you left! So quickly. I imagine you found out about my contact, and worked your way into the favours of the Wardens so you would have powerful allies when the time came to confront me."

Leliana could barely believe what she was hearing. "You – you think I left because of you? That I still want revenge? You're insane! Paranoid!"

"So you don't want revenge?"

"I-"

Leliana had to stop. If she said she did…her companions would butcher Marjolaine. And despite everything the woman had done, Leliana found that she couldn't do that. She hung her head. "I just want you to leave me alone. I want to forget you."

"You never will," Marjolaine said bluntly. "The scars on your skin will ensure that. Come, command your dogs to attack me. There are others waiting out of sight, we can make this battle fai."

"No." Maker's mercy, she couldn't believe she was doing this. "I'm better than you, Marjolaine. I'm not going to give you the satisfaction." Wynne's hand was on her shoulder again, squeezing gently, reassuring her that this was the right decision even as Morrigan scoffed and Zevran gave her an odd look.

"Suit yourself," Marjolaine shrugged. "I'll be watching you. And if I get the slightest hint that you might be about to share my secrets-"

"If you attack us again, I'll kill you myself," Jaiden snarled.

"Foolishness," Morrigan sneered. "Your enemy is right there. We fight darkspawn on a regular basis. What's one woman and her hired thugs? She will plague us if we let her live."

"The witch speaks sense, for once," Sten said. "We cannot afford extra distraction from our duty."

Leliana winced, and looked around for Jaiden. The elf met her gaze, concerned. "Are you sure?"

The bard nodded. Alistair frowned, but made no comment, and Jaiden slipped her sword back into its sheath to link fingers with Leliana once more. Leliana drew strength from the contact, looking up and managing to actually meeting Marjolaine's eyes this time. "I want nothing else to do with you, Marjolaine. You ripped my life apart even though I never would have used those secrets to betray you. Leave me be."

Marjolaine actually looked disappointed. "I see. I will, for now." She moved forward again, stopped from reaching Leliana only by one of Zevran's daggers held up in warning. "But this isn't over, cherie. We will see each other again." She stepped back and made a shooing gesture. "Now, if you would all please leave? I need to make my arrangements to pack."

With that, she turned her back on them and walked out of the main room, signalling the end of the conversation.

Leliana's legs gave way.

Jaiden and Alistair caught her between them, the elf wrapping her arms around Leliana firmly. "It's okay Leliana. It's over, she's going." Morrigan made a derisive noise and a muttered comment about wasted time, before turning on her heel and leaving the house. Zevran looked unusually solemn, and Sten's anger had fallen away to be replaced by his usual expression. Leliana couldn't seem to find the strength to stand, and the Wardens lifted her, Jaiden continuing to murmur to her, as they bore her out of the door and away from the house.

It took Leliana some time to notice that she was crying, and that they'd returned to the inn. The wound of the betrayal felt as raw now as it had once she realised what Marjolaine had done, and the knowledge that no matter where she went or what she did she would never be free from that woman burned in her, made it impossible to think or to try and make plans. Marjolaine _would_ come after her and she _would _make a point of making Jaiden suffer first, just to drive home the point that it was all Leliana's fault…

Jaiden was lying her on her bed, pressing a kiss to her forehead, and Leliana couldn't bring herself to loosen her grip, moaning and whimpering, convinced that if the elf pulled away that was the end of everything and she might as well go and hand herself over to Marjolaine again…

"Sorry." Jaiden's voice broke through her misery, and she blinked at the Warden, wondering what on earth she could have to apologise for. "This'll help you rest."

"What-"

Jaiden signalled, and the Sleep spell hit Leliana, dragging her into slumber before she even knew what had happened.

* * *

The mood was quiet, and tense. Jaiden knew that if they'd beaten Marjolaine it likely would have been the same, as Leliana would be mourning the woman she'd thought she'd known, but it wouldn't have had this sense of…restlessness. Alistair was polishing his shield, and had been doing so for over an hour, despite it needing only a quick wipe, his expression tense in a way she hadn't seen since realising how badly Loghain had betrayed them at Ostagar. Everybody else had retired to their separate rooms without a word, and Jaiden was pacing up and down the corridor.

She didn't know what to do. Leliana wanted – needed to be good, to be the better person and walk away from Marjolaine without extracting revenge. But at the same time Marjolaine thoroughly deserved to be spitted on a sword for what she'd done, dying an ignoble death at the hands of the person she had wronged. For about the fifth time, Jaiden's feet carried her into Leliana's room, and she looked down at her sleeping bard, trying to help her reach a decision. The woman looked so peaceful after so many disturbed nights, and reflexively Jaiden bent down, pressing a kiss to Leliana's cheek. The bard didn't wake, but her forehead crinkled slightly and she let out a whimper, shying away from the contact.

Leaving the room, Jaiden shut the door behind her and leant against it. Morrigan had been right; Marjolaine posed far too much of a risk to be let alone. But she could no sooner send Leliana away than pull out her own heart, and neither would she force Leliana to kill her former lover. The bard's thoughts went to dark places, sometimes, and Jaiden knew that she needed saving from them.

Resolve was beginning to strengthen her. Jaiden walked down the corridor, rapping on Zevran's door and walking in when he admitted her. He was still fully dressed, sitting and sharpening his daggers, and the bottle of wine on his table was untouched. Jaiden got the definite feeling that the Crow had known that she would come, what she was about to propose, and what they were going to do. He took his feet off the table, his usual cheer tucked away behind an air of professionalism. She didn't need to speak; he inclined his head towards the window, and together they climbed out, dropping to the dark street below.

* * *

Whew. Four months to update, 12 page-chapter, and I'm still not done with Marjolaine. But as the next chapter is mostly written, it'll be up soon!


	22. She Had It Coming

**Okay, that took a bit longer than a week; the fight with Marjolaine took a lot longer to write than anticipated. But at last, in the next chapter we're back with the main plot; it's onto Soldier's Peak!**

**Thanks again to my beta ladyamesindy for looking over this and picking out the moments when I forgot the English language. : D And thank you to everybody who reviewed last time.**

**-Genjutsu-Dragon-**

* * *

Leliana was never, ever going to forgive her for this.

The enormity of what she was trying to do hit Jaiden as she followed Zevran through the back alleys of Denerim, choosing a roundabout path to avoid running into any patrols. Leliana had chosen to spare Marjolaine, a gesture that Jaiden knew she wouldn't have been able to make had she been in the bard's shoes, and now the Warden was going to defy that gesture and kill the woman anyway. She could argue the practical reasons – Marjolaine was insane, she'd never stop hunting Leliana and that in turn threatened their whole group, and Leli wouldn't ever settle as long as she knew her former master was tracking them – until the cows came home, but it all boiled down to the fact that she was going to murder Marjolaine against Leli's wishes.

But Leliana was the better person, and Jaiden couldn't forgive Marjolaine the damage she'd wrecked on somebody the elf cared about so deeply. Vaughan had died at her hands for doing something just as heinous to her cousin, why shouldn't that bitch suffer the same fate?

All the same, Jaiden had to acknowledge the chances of her actually beating the woman were slim to none. Marjolaine had been a bardmaster for more years than Jaiden had been alive, probably. And the Warden had only had a year in which to hone her abilities. So as they slipped from shadow to shadow, Jaiden steeled herself for the possibility that this confrontation was going to end very badly for her. It was stupid and selfish and she shouldn't be taking such a risk over something like this when there was the Blight to think of, but if Marjolaine kept tracking them it would make the task that much harder. Jaiden forced herself to think of it in those terms and mentally prepared herself, as much as she could. Hopefully, sparring with Zevran and learning a few of his tricks had helped give her an edge she could exploit in a crucial moment.

Following their circuitous route, it took about an hour to reach Marjolaine's house. No fresh guards had been posted, which made both elves very cautious. Hopefully, Marjolaine was arrogant enough that she felt she didn't need them, or was banking on Leliana's decision to keep her alive to prevent anybody else from attacking her. She hadn't reckoned on a very angry Warden being prepared to pick up the sword on Leli's behalf.

Zevran gestured for her to wait as he moved across the alleyway and tested the door to check for the traps again. Nothing. Jaiden moved slowly as he beckoned, calling on every reserve of energy she had. She and Zev were going to have to fight the woman together or Jaiden wouldn't last five seconds, so for the thousandth time she trusted her life to the assassin and they made their way through the door. The guards they had killed inside the house had been tidied away, and the door stood open; as Jaiden entered, Marjolaine walked into the main room. She had dispensed with her dress and was wearing well-tailored leathers that were nonetheless utterly unremarkable; there was not one single thing about the outfit to make it stand out beyond the woman who wore it. A proper bard's armour.

She looked across at them with the same smile that she had used to greet Leli, clearly not in the least bit surprised by the late-night visit.

"Ah, you are back. Much as I expected." Marjolaine looked around. "Where is Leliana?"

Jaiden answered with a growl. "She's not coming." The bardmaster stared at her for a moment, and then lifted a deceptively delicate-looking hand to her lips and chuckled softly behind her fingers.

"Oh, clever, clever Leliana. I thought she may have become rusty after all this time, but her skills have only improved." Marjolaine started to move forwards, sinuous as a snake. "Do you think she truly does not know you are here? She presents herself as vulnerable, in need of protection. So you, her gallant protector, come forward to save her, never thinking that she orchestrated this, that her vulnerability is an act. To strike me down would break her cover; and so she has you come forward to do it instead."

Jaiden was disgusted to feel part of herself wondering if Marjolaine's words were true. She could see how the woman had fooled Leliana for so many years. The Warden searched for the faith she held in the bard – _her_ bard – and clutched it, drawing resolve from it and using it to drown out the poisonous words dripping from Marjolaine's mouth.

"She doesn't know." She met Marjolaine's eyes as the bardmaster stopped a few paces from her. "I came here because she's changed since you knew her. Leliana is honest, and good, and many things now I can't ever be myself. And I'll be damned before I let you take that away from her."

"It is a trick." Marjolaine was confident, laughing; but Jaiden was feeling steadier now. "If you kill me, you take my life for the sake of an illusion. You could make it simpler." Her voice lowered. "Let Leliana go. I will not trouble you again; she is the only one I am interested in. No blood spilled, no trouble for you."

Jaiden spat at Marjolaine's feet. "You are insane."

The veneer of pleasantry dropped away and Marjolaine's face became shockingly twisted with loathing. "You dare," she snarled. "You dare spit on my good boots, you filthy little knife-ears!"

"_I always regret talking to knife-ears. I'll just have to gut your miserable carcass…"_

It took every inch of Jaiden's self-control not to fling herself across the room at the woman. She would be dead in seconds. Zev put a steadying hand on her shoulder, and the two elves sized the woman up. Marjolaine glanced at the Antivan.

"I heard about you," she commented, her anger not entirely covered by a fresh mask of civility. "The Crow who joined the Wardens. Why don't you work for me, instead? I can keep you much safer than they can. You wouldn't have to fight darkspawn and bandits every day, but you'd have targets worthy of your skills. All you have to do it get rid of this irritating little fly here." She flapped a hand at Jaiden.

Jaiden forced herself not to look at Zev, drawing on her faith in him. And it was rewarded.

"I gave Jaiden my oath." The assassin's voice was perfectly even, almost pleasant, as though explaining to a child why it wasn't a go idea to go play in the armoury. "I am her man no matter what you try to bribe me with."

"Then you both die."

A vial of acid exploded at their feet; Jaiden instinctively covered her face and then the bardmaster was on them. Jaiden barely managed to block the blow that could have taken her head off, and a knee drove into Zev's midsection. Jaiden swung an arm out, but didn't even graze the woman; no matter where she swung her weapons, Marjolaine always seemed there to counter them, and Zev's strikes were avoided time and again as the bardmaster dodged with a speed that seemed inhuman.

But she _was_ human, and they would wear her down. They just had to stay alive long enough for her to start making mistakes. The difficulty lay in that she kept disrupting the teamwork that Jaiden and Zev had established over the previous months, preventing them from working in unison; a dagger would be aimed at a limb but had to veer off course to strike away one of Marjolaine's weapons as it came out of seemingly nowhere to threaten the chest, a throat, the face. With time for thought, Jaiden might have considered that the bardmaster had taken something to enhance her strength and speed; she struck impossibly hard, moved impossibly fast. But thinking would slow her reactions just enough for Marjolaine to make a strike, so she simply continued to react, the sweat pouring down her face as she swung again and again at openings that just closed the moment she started to move.

A droplet of sweat flicked into Jaiden's eye, the salt stinging slightly; she blinked, and then a dagger was buried in her right arm; with a howl of pain she dropped her sword. Marjolaine didn't even make the slightest noise to signify triumph, but it was clearly written on her face; after the pain came a coldness that shut down nerve endings and made Jaiden gasp. The bitch had slicked her weapons with poison.

Marjolaine was now able to predict every move; Zev had to keep an eye on Jaiden to make sure the bardmaster didn't just slit her throat, as well as defending himself, which greatly limited his range of movement, and Jaiden's mind was shutting down in anger and fright. How potent was the stuff now coursing through her bloodstream? Would it kill her or just paralyse her enough for Marjolaine to finish her off like a pig hung up for slaughter? The numbness had spread down to her fingertips and was beginning to course up her arm.

Jaiden threw caution entirely to the winds and flung her herself on the bardmaster; the shock of having the elf collide with her in such a reckless move that Marjolaine momentarily lost her balance, allowing Zevran that crucial moment to sweep his foot around and hook her ankles, sending bardmaster and Warden crashing to the floor. Jaiden managed to remain on top and grabbed a handful of Marjolaine's hair, driving the back of the woman's head into the stone as hard as she could. And the woman was _laughing_, still confident of her victory as Jaiden's arm dangled uselessly at her side.

"She'll always be a bard!" Marjolaine laughed, trying to wriggle her arms free; Jaiden straddled her, pinning her in place with her legs. "It doesn't matter if she's all sweetness and light now, she _will_ betray you if it benefits her. She doesn't care if you live or die, she just needs you to take care of me, and when the time is right she'll sell you out more quickly than you can spit. Let me up now, and I can make sure it never comes to that. I'll even promise not to hurt anybody else in your group, how about that?"

On the floor, bloodied, with an angry, poisoned elf leaning over her, Marjolaine was still trying to bargain for her life, and apparently believed that Jaiden would accept. The Warden leaned forwards, hand moving from hair to throat, and she began to squeeze slowly and steadily until the woman could get no more words out. Zevran had trapped Marjolaine's legs. Jaiden glared down at Marjolaine, the loathing she felt for this woman almost beyond her own comprehension.

"Leliana has changed." It came out as a growl, and the left hand tightened a little. "I'm not letting you take that away from her. And I'm not letting you just waltz back into her life whenever you feel like ruining it." The numbness had reached her shoulder by now; Jaiden didn't want to think about what could happen when it touched her heart. The bardmaster was still laughing, almost insane, through her gurgles; she must never have lost at anything in her life, to be so confident of victory even now. Jaiden bared her teeth. It was not anything that resembled a smile, and she reached to her belt for a small, very sharp knife she usually used for peeling apples.

Only now did the bardmaster's eyes widen, and she redoubled her efforts to escape; Jaiden let her see the blade for only a moment before slashing her throat open.

The body that had been Marjolaine convulsed, choked, gurgled, and then the wide brown eyes went glassy and the tension drained out of the corpse. Jaiden sat up, and spat in the dead woman's face. "I should have strangled her," she growled.

"She's gone, amica," Zev commented, catching her shoulders. The cold was spreading through Jaiden at a rapid rate, and she slumped to the side. If Zevran still desired his return to the Crows, there was nothing she could do to stop him killing her right now, and they both knew it. The fact was acknowledged when their eyes met, and Jaiden once again put her faith in the assassin. He might have hesitated, briefly. The thought was obviously tempting.

Then he was standing, lifting her in his arms as Jaiden's consciousness gave way. Before she passed out she heard him murmuring to her, and then there was nothing.

* * *

It had taken a very short time for Leliana to become used to the presence of another person in her tent, even if half of that person's purpose for being there was to stop her running away. The other half was what had made it bearable; having Jaiden curled against her every night, the elf's warmth, the sweetness of her face in sleep, the gentle, even breaths when her rest went undisturbed by nightmares more than making up for the times when bad dreams had plagued both of them. It was inexpressibly wonderful to wake up from those dreams and have somebody to cling to until she finished shaking.

So when she woke in the early hours of that morning from the worst one yet, she immediately cast around for Jaiden. Her memory of returning to the inn, or going to bed, was fuzzy; but it had happened. There was Boy curled up at the end of the bed, dozing, her and Jaiden's packs leaning against each other, the candle burning on the bedside table. But no Warden.

She knew Jaiden might be pacing around downstairs or in the corridor, so she reined in her panic for a moment and got unsteadily to her feet. Boy lifted his head as she did so and rose after a moment, trotting up alongside her so she could rest her hand on his back. Slowly, they made their way out of the room.

Jaiden wasn't outside. Leliana made her way to Alistair's room and knocked on the door; after a few moments, the ex-templar stuck his head out, bleary-eyed and spiky-haired from sleep. "Leli? Are you all right?"

"Is Jaiden downstairs?" Leliana fought not to clench her fingers in Boy's short fur with worry, but she couldn't stop herself at Alistair's answer.

"She's not in your room? She said she was going to be keeping an eye on…you…" Their eyes met and Leliana knew that Alistair was feeling the same clench in her gut as he was. "Oh Maker. She hasn't." Alistair's featured twisted into something that was half-rage and half-panic, and he pushed past her to run down the stairs, presumably looking for Jaiden in the bar. Leliana slid down the wall; Boy pushed his head under her arm, and she clung to him.

After a few moments, she heard a commotion on the stairs. Zevran came haring up, Alistair hot on his heels, yelling for Wynne; draped over Zevran's shoulder was…

_Maker, no…_

Zevran ran into Jaiden's room and was granted just enough time to drop Jaiden on the bed before Alistair grabbed him by the throat and slammed him into the wall. It was a move Zevran could easily have evaded; he must have been really out of sorts not to, and Leliana ran over to tug uselessly at the ex-templar's arm as Wynne and Morrigan came running in. Alistair's face was red with fury.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?"

The elf plucked at Alistair's fingers, trying to gain enough space to breathe. "…Marjolaine…"

Leliana let go of Alistair's arm and almost flung herself across the room to the bed. Jaiden's skin was clammy and gray, and her side was horribly cold; Leliana probed Jaiden's neck for a pulse, releasing a shuddering sob of relief as she felt the faint thump beneath the skin; very weak, but still there.

"Could you move your theatrics elsewhere?" Morrigan's voice cut through her relief, scathing but not as much as Leliana would have expected. One glance at the witch's face revealed that Morrigan's skin was even more pale than usual, and she was doing a poor job of adopting her usual mask; she looked genuinely worried about the Warden. Before Leliana could wonder at this, Wynne took command.

"We need to move quickly. Leliana and Morrigan, strip her out of her armour so I can look at the damage."

With trembling fingers, Leliana obeyed, moving aside pauldrons and breastplate to reveal the point of entry for the poison. Wynne frowned, magic already taking form between her fingers; if Jaiden's condition hadn't been clue enough, the look on the elder mage's face would have informed Leliana how serious this was. It was going to be painfully close, and it was all her fault…she should have just run away at the first opportunity, not let Jaiden talk her into staying…

Wynne probed the wound for a few moments, before gesturing for the women to move aside. "Alistair, Zevran – I'm going to need you to hold her down. This will hurt her, but there's no other way." Leliana covered her mouth, and looked away as the men moved into place, Alistair at the feet and Zevran holding Jaiden's shoulders. Wynne drew in a breath, and began the spell.

Almost immediately, Jaiden's eyes shot open and she roared in pain; Leliana didn't want to look, or to be in here, but she wasn't going to leave her Warden in agony, and she moved to kneel by the side of the bed and hold Jaiden's hand. "It's all right, cherie, I'm here. I'm here!" Bubbles of blood and globules of what Leliana assumed was the poison began to leave the wound. Jaiden's head thrashed from side to side; Leliana saw Alistair's face tighten with the effort of holding her down, and the grip on her hand squeezed painfully.

For the next half an hour, Jaiden howled and whimpered as Wynne scoured her system with magic, removing every last trace of the poison. She was sweating so much her tunic was soaked through and after a time the noises took on a rasping quality. Leliana clung to her Warden's hand, watching and praying…praying…praying…

At long last, Wynne stopped, and Jaiden went limp, mercifully swallowed by unconsciousness again. The mage waved her hand over the wound and the flesh began to knit.

"She'll be fine. She just needs rest now." Wynne knelt back with a sigh, rubbing her eyes. Already, the elf's skin was turning from grey to pale pink, and her breathing had evened out into the deep measures of sleep. Leliana didn't want to let Jaiden go – couldn't. To have her past come back to tear away someone she…

…loved…

She felt a hand on her shoulder; Alistair. "Will you be all right, Leli?" She nodded, unable to speak; her throat was clogged with tears. Zevran slipped off the bed, stretching out his back.

"I think we all need a drink after that," he commented, with a distinct lack of his usual aplomb. "My round." He tilted his head at Leliana, and she nodded gratefully at him for the excuse to be left alone with her Warden. Alistair hesitated, but after glancing at her he followed the elf out of the room; Leliana could hear him mumbling apologies to Zevran in the corridor. Morrigan swept out with her usual air of indifference, although she did glance back at Jaiden on the way out. Wynne tarried a bit longer.

"She needs fresh clothing and a bit of a wash," Wynne said. "I think I can leave that to you?" Leliana nodded, still not trusting herself to speak. The elder mage squeezed her shoulder briefly, before leaving the bard to it.

Leliana didn't start doing that immediately; the moment Wynne left, she wrapped Jaiden's limp form in her arms and sobbed. For her, the Warden had nearly thrown away everything – considered her even more important than the Blight. And she had nearly died for it.

It took a few moments to pull herself together, and start stripping Jaiden out of her tunic and breeches. Using a wet sponge, she dabbed at the woman's skin until the elf was mostly clean, and then she eased Jaiden into a loose set of trews. As she started cleaning around Jaiden's wound, the Warden let out a hiss, and her eyes drifted open.

"…Leli?"

"Hssh." Leliana lifted her hand, tucking a few strands of hair behind the elf's ear. "It's all right, Jaiden. You're going to be fine." The eyelids fluttered shut.

"I don't feel like it." The Warden's voice came out as a thick, muffled grumble. "I think it hurt less when the ogre stepped on me." Again, that ache, that Jaiden had willingly put herself in such danger…just for her. Who had ever cared that much for her before? She found herself intertwining her fingers with Jaiden's, and the elf managed to find enough strength to gently squeeze.

"I'm sorry, Jaiden," Leliana managed, determined not to let herself succumb to tears again. "I'm so sorry…"

"Not your fault," Jaiden mumbled. "Marjolaine's." There was a gentle tug on her arm, and Leliana looked over at the elf who was looking at her through very heavy-lidded eyes. "Come here."

After a moment's hesitation, Leliana obeyed, curling up on the bed beside Jaiden. The elf lifted a hand, trailing it down her face. "Beautiful bard…" Leliana's breath hitched, and Jaiden shifted slightly, managing to press a kiss to her lips.

The gesture drained the last of Jaiden's reserves of strength, and Leliana looped an arm around her waist, watching as her Warden drifted off. She knew Marjolaine was dead. Alive, she would never have let Jaiden get back to Leliana at all. The shadow of her past dissipated, leaving something that felt almost like grief. Not for Marjolaine, but for the memories of her that Leliana had before everything had gone wrong. Despite all that had happened, she had loved Marjolaine, and knowing she would never see the woman with the weakness for sugary cakes again, the woman who had taught her everything she needed to survive, hurt.

But what she had now was Jaiden, her Warden, who was never going to manipulate her for the sake of playing a greater game.

After a few moments of watching Jaiden's sleeping face, drowsiness caught up with the bard, and once again she allowed herself to drift thankfully into a dreamless sleep.


	23. Reaching The Peak

**Well would you look at that, I'm alive.**

**I don't have much of an excuse for the delay in this fic. Suffice to say I've been distracted by other writing projects and I completely lost inspiration for this one for a considerable length of time; I made a few attempts at starting again but I couldn't find the right voice. I hope I'm back for good now and updates will be weeks apart rather than months, but given my track record I'm not going to promise anything. **

**For those still watching, welcome back, and thanks for your patience with me. For those recent reviewers who stumbled over this story, thanks for reviewing and giving me even more reasons to get off my thumbs and write. This isn't fantastic, but hopefully it's a good leap back into the fray. **

**-Genjutsu-Dragon-**

* * *

"Well, I think that can be considered a job well done," Alistair commented, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his arm. Piles of ashes and odd demon ooze coated the floor, and the air was still thick with the taste of magic that made the templar in him want to start smiting everything, but the danger was past…mostly. Avernus was crumpled in an exhausted heap on the floor, and as yet nobody had made a move to help him. If he'd had enough energy for hatred at the moment, Alistair would have directed it at the maleficar; between summoning demons, the torture and experimentation on fellow Wardens and the fact that at any moment he could leap into a person's head and effectively hold them hostage, he should be striding over there to place a blade between the mage's ribs.

The trek up from Denerim had been tiring on a number of levels. So close to Loghain, they'd needed to make as quick an exit as possible before some flapping set of lips alerted the Regent – the _Regent_, Alistair had seethed when he heard that – that people matching the description of the hunted Wardens not only walked around the capital, but were well-armed and had apparently bought a motley army with them. Of course, making a quick exit with Jaiden in her condition was difficult; as indifferent as the guards were towards elves, even they would ask questions if a human walked out with a clearly weakened one slung over his shoulder. In the end they'd disguised themselves and Jaiden had feigned a limp to compensate for her lack of strength. The poison had drained her and once they'd reached the agreed meeting place with Shale, the golem had agreed to carry Jaiden part of the way until they could find a safe spot to camp.

And of course, Leliana had been by her side the whole way. Alistair wasn't quite resigned to the idea of his fellow Warden and the woman he really, really liked being together, although he tried to be happy for them. They'd both been through harrowing experiences (although, who hadn't in this weird group?) and finding some happiness with everything else that was going on wasn't something he should begrudge them. But…he still sort of wished it had been him.

Once Jaiden had regained her strength, they'd made for Soldier's Peak to a background of Sten's grumblings. The qunari was much more muted about his protests to their trip north than he would have been before he regained Asala, but he didn't stint on letting Jaiden know what he thought of the idea. Strategic or not, the stronghold was miles away from either of the places they needed to go to get the next treaty, and as it turned out, pretty high in the mountains, and could only be accessed through a maze of caves. Thankfully they hadn't had to navigate that; Levi knew the route like the back of his hand, although Maker knew how he'd learned it. They'd turned and twisted so many times Alistair had been dizzy. Even Morrigan seemed a bit unnerved by it, and just as awed by the size of Soldier's Peak itself – although that didn't stop her getting an insult in at the first opportunity.

Just walking up the path there in full armour had been straining, although not as much as it might have been. Jaiden wasn't the only one getting stronger; used to walking around in the heavy metal plate all day, Alistair felt oddly light every evening when he took it off. It was such a change from the hodgepodge of chainmail and splintmail he'd been used to at the start of the Blight, and Jaiden's coin had allowed him to purchase a set of heavy plate gloves to complete the rest of the set that they'd claimed from various bandits over their months of travelling.

And then the visions, all the Warden bodies, and suddenly they were running through the Keep fighting off demons, ghosts and reanimated corpses. They'd only stopped for breath for a moment when Jaiden confronted Sophia Dryden, and that didn't last long; the elf's tolerance for the supernatural (beyond her mage friends) was severely limited and negotiations ended the usual way, in gory splatters of whatever it was the corpses had in them instead of blood.

The longest rest they'd got was speaking to Avernus, and Alistair's mind had been too clouded with rage to really pay attention to what the mage was saying. Having read the research notes, Alistair's gaze was drawn to the bodies in the cages, slung up on the walls – one even impaled on a gigantic square of spikes. What in the Maker's name was the _point_ of that? He'd wanted to kill the mage right there, but Jaiden had asked him to stay his hand for the moment; getting the Veil sealed otherwise would likely be impossible, Avernus had augmented his strength with blood magic until he was more powerful than either Morrigan or Wynne. Only he could fix what he'd broken.

And clearly the demons weren't going to let it be fixed without a fight.

So while Alistair still wanted to mark Avernus as the last of those demons and bury a sword in his chest, he settled with a quip and as ever let Jaiden make the decisions. Not that it sat well with him when she chose to let the mage live, even with the addendum that he stick to using ethical methods. He could sort of understand, though. Come thirty years time, he'd probably be looking for ways to put off the Calling for as long as possible, and if there was something that could be done in the meantime to alleviate the current side-effects of being a Warden – the nightmares in particular – he wouldn't be adverse to it. As long as nobody was hurt.

Still, he expressed his reservations to Jaiden once they were outside, and once again she managed to make her reasoning sound so…reasonable. "There aren't any other Wardens in Ferelden apart from us, Alistair. He doesn't have anybody he could experiment on, and he seemed genuinely remorseful about what he'd done."

"A foolish notion," Morrigan chipped in, her voice having the usual effect on Alistair of feeling like something was scraping over his bones. "He had clearly succeeded at not only extending his life but lessening the pull of the darkspawn. If he can replicate that, surely it is worth sacrificing a few lives for the many?"

"A few?" Alistair, as usual, found his efforts to keep the lid on his boiling temper a complete failure despite being fully aware that Morrigan was needling him on purpose. "He tortured his fellow Wardens for _months!_ Even when he wasn't getting anywhere he just carried on with it!"

"It's called learning from trial and error, templar, and you would do well to try it sometime."

Alistair took a step towards Morrigan, not sure what he intended to do, but was stopped as Jaiden pressed a hand against his breastplate. "Enough, the both of you." She sounded tired. "We'll rest here tonight, resupply at the inn tomorrow and carry on south."

"We're staying here?" Alistair loathed how tight his voice sounded, along with the gleam in Morrigan's eyes as she registered it. "In the Keep, with all the…ghosts and things?"

"We can camp outside if you'd prefer. I just thought we should hang around, try and gather any weapons we can so we can barter with anything left over, and set off tomorrow rather than trying to trek through the maze when it's dark."

"If I might have a word, Wardens?" Levi gingerly tapped Jaiden on the arm. "I'm summoning my cousin up from the inn tomorrow. He's a pretty good armourer, so if you'd be willing to wait a few days, we can get your kit sorted out. How about it?" He looked at Alistair. "We could adjust Sophia's old armour so it fits you. You'll look the proper Warden then."

Alistair rather liked that idea, but caution kicked in first. "Is it really wise for me to be wandering around Ferelden with a griffin on my chest? That might make it a tad easy for Loghain's spies to pick us out of a crowd."

"Everyone seems to know who we are wherever we go anyway," Jaiden observed drily. She had a point. The only place that hadn't been true was Denerim, ironically, and with Marjolaine dead they weren't going back there for a while. There wasn't a reason for it until they'd got the Landsmeet sorted, in fact.

That, and he really, really liked the armour. "What about Jaiden, though? Shouldn't she have something too, if we're going to be all official about our…Warden-ness?"

Levi smiled, sensing a victory. "Easily done. We can make a set of really good leathers, get a Warden symbol etched into it, how about that?"

"I think you should do it." Leliana had finished picking up her arrows and wiping demon goo off the tips, and was stowing them in her quiver as she approached. "We could use a longer rest than a day, Jaiden." A smile curved her lips. "And you would look very good in leathers tailored for you."

Wynne had joined them as well, and was nodding her agreement. "It could take us some time to find the Dalish. And we stand a greater chance of running into darkspawn in the south. I believe it would be prudent to take a week or so to wait until we are back at full strength."

Jaiden sighed. "Why do I feel like I'm being ganged up on?"

"Because you are, _cara_." Zevran grinned at her as he looked up from sharpening his blades. "Best to give in, don't you think? Wouldn't want us all becoming despondent because we thought our leader didn't care about our health."

Jaiden's gaze flicked first to Morrigan, who rolled her eyes, and then to Sten, who uttered a long-suffering sigh. "Your will is my will, kadan."

Alistair grinned as his fellow Warden gave in. "Fine, fine! We'll set up tents out front tonight and try and clear up as much as possible over the next few days so we can get to sleep in a bed for at least one night. Gives us more time to search for anything useful to sell later on, anyway."

Avernus was banished to his tower, much to Alistair's relief, and their group headed outside to try and clear up the yard of soldier remains. Alistair fell into step beside Leliana, who was watching Jaiden talk with Levi about the armour he'd be making for her, and gave her a gentle nudge with his elbow. It was easy to find his humour with the prospect of a few days guaranteed to be combat-free and when she turned her head he grinned at her. "Put your tongue back in, Leli."

"Alistair!" The bard turned a shade of red that clashed with her hair and the ex-templar chuckled. "I wasn't…euh…"

"Perving?" He snickered. "Actually, considering she's all sweaty from the fight, maybe not." He eyed her mischievously. "Unless that's your thing?"

"I prefer my women not covered in bits of demon, merci beaucoup."

"Maybe you could help her bathe, then." Zevran had slunk up on Leliana's other side and was waggling his eyebrows at her. "I could help too."

Leliana groaned. "Pray tell what I have done to either of you to deserve this?"

"Am I supposed to pass up the opportunity to do the ribbing instead of being the one on the receiving end for once?" Alistair teased. It was surprisingly easy to do so, and he felt some of the knotted frustration in his chest ease. He could do this. He wasn't entirely happy about playing second fiddle to Jaiden in everything, but he could make it easier on himself by not dwelling on it.

It wasn't as though he didn't have other things to worry about than his total lack of a love life.

* * *

In the end they'd opted for camping in the entrance hall; it made more sense than setting up in the snow, and was more easily cleaned out. A large fire allowed for some heated water for baths as well, and everybody seemed the better for it. Even Morrigan looked marginally content following her turn, although it didn't take long for her to start complaining about feeling hemmed in by the walls. Alistair suggested that she would be perfectly welcome to sleep outside while the rest of them enjoyed the warm, and Morrigan responded with a comment on getting away from Alistair's stench. As the pair sniped at each other and Zevran offered running commentary, Leliana noticed Jaiden slinking away from the hall, and after checking everyone else was preoccupied – Wynne had her head in a book and, like Sten who tended to his armour, was soundly ignoring the arguing pair – crept after her.

She'd been worried that Jaiden wouldn't hold up throughout the fighting. Towards the end she'd looked downright ill, although that had eased once she put some distance between herself and Avernus. Marjolaine's poison had been potent and Leliana knew without a doubt that had Wynne not been with them, Jaiden would have died in agony. The thought made her throat close; having seen Jaiden lying broken and bleeding once after the troll in Honnleth, seeing it twice had made Leliana want to hug the elf to her and never let her fight again. But that simply wasn't a possibility.

Still, she wanted to keep an eye on her where possible, and while she knew she should probably leave Jaiden alone for a while to lick her wounds, Leliana found herself following the dark corridors still strewn with the cut down undead, surprised when Jaiden passed through a door and started ascending a staircase. Hastily getting her bearings, Leliana realised they were at the foot of the highest tower of the Peak, and wondered why Jaiden was heading up there. She gathered the shadows around her and followed silently.

It was a long climb and Jaiden's progress was slow, her breathing laboured, and Leliana almost started forward a few times to offer aid or encourage the Warden to come back down when the elf came to a stop to rest her hand against a wall. Already weakened, after a battle, she shouldn't be doing this.

Still, Jaiden's perseverance couldn't be faulted. At long last they reached the top and the Warden moved to perch herself on the edge of the tower, looking out. Leliana had intended to remain in the shadows but revealed herself as she stepped out far enough to see the view. An audible gasp left her lips.

A tapestry of mountains and forests was their view for miles. Contrary to the gloom of the hallways, the sun was out and making the snow so bright it almost hurt the eyes to look at. A river snaked its way through the scene in the far distance, and at intervals smoke rose from settlements hidden by the trees. The air was sharply cold up here but after the exertion of the climb and the battle it was welcome, and she drew in a long breath. She'd never had cause to use the phrase 'blowing out the cobwebs' before but it was a perfectly apt description for how her mind cleared and her tiredness eased as she inhaled the cold draught.

"C'est incroyable."

"That's a good sound, I'm guessing?" Jaiden had turned on her perch to smile at the bard.

"Yes." Leliana was still looking out at the view. "I have not seen a view such as this before. Then again, I never had much occasion to be up on a tower in the mountains. The closest was being perched on a roof in Val Royeaux, looking down at the torches spread throughout the city."

"I liked doing that in the alienage." Jaiden was looking out at the view again, but patted the ledge beside her. Leliana wasn't quite bold enough to put her legs over the edge in the same manner as the Warden, but sat facing inwards and twisted around to look. "I used to climb the vhenadahl a lot when I was younger, getting right up where the branches swayed under my weight. Things looked much prettier from up there." Leliana had rested her hand on the wall, and almost like an afterthought Jaiden had covered it with hers, twining her fingers with the bard's.

Leliana felt uncharacteristically nervous.

They hadn't spoke about 'them' since before Denerim. Not since that kiss in the tent and Leliana had spurned the advance, too frightened of what would happen if Marjolaine even got a hint of her feelings for the Warden. But that was done with now. There were many other reasons she could think of to advance cautiously, though; the Blight was still raging, it was foolish to place hopes in something that could end tomorrow, what would happen if Loghain found them and used the weakness for each other to exploit either of them.

Jaiden's free hand reached up to touch her cheek. "You suit being in the sun. You look beautiful." The hand curved around to press against the back of Leliana's neck, gently easing her forwards. It struck the bard that for the first time, they were truly alone together. The others were rooms and an entire tower's worth of stairs away, all the enemies in the immediate area had been slain, and unless the archdemon itself swooped down to pluck Jaiden off the tower they stood no risk of interruption for the first time.

And Jaiden was looking at her with those pale green eyes, as though she truly was the most beautiful being the elf had ever seen. Leliana let her eyelids lower as the Warden pulled her into a kiss that was at first gentle and hesitant, and so tender that the bard couldn't imagine anything sweeter. This lasted for only a few moments before months of denied urges welled up and she found herself pulling the other woman closer to her, kissing her with a mix of desperation and hunger and having Jaiden return it with an intensity that made her head spin. She was distantly aware of Jaiden shifting so she was no longer sitting on the edge but was pulling her down to the stone floor, but she barely paid attention. She just let herself reel in the power of the contact she had needed for so long and when Jaiden pulled away she found herself letting out a needy whine that instantly made her blush. It was cut off by a gasp as the elf started to trail kisses along her neck, hands coursing down her sides to reach for the buckles of her armour and Leliana was only too happy to help, desperate to have warm hands on her skin…

Until the armour was unbuckled and a sudden rush of air had her grabbing Jaiden's hands to stop her. "Cold!"

"Don't care." Neither did Leliana, hearing the hungry growl of the Warden's voice. Jaiden was warm, after all, she just had to make sure they didn't stop touching…

Whether through divine providence or the rest of their group opting to give the pair some privacy for once, nobody interrupted them. The cold had seemed less and less important, although Jaiden had encouraged her to lie on her cloak once the armour was off and had now pulled her own over them both. Cuddled skin to skin, it was easily enough to ignore the temperature, and Leliana let herself doze in Jaiden's arms, lulled by the drift of the Warden's hands along her back. All hints of weariness on the Warden's part had been overwhelmed by need for each other and the elf actually seemed better after their exertions than she had before.

A gentle kiss on her forehead shifted her slightly from her afterglow, and she looked up at Jaiden through heavy-lidded eyes, lips curving as the elf spoke. "Remind me why we waited so long to do that?"

"Because I am a dolt," Leliana opined. "Maker, if I'd known what it would be like, I'd have started flirting with you in Lothering."

Jaiden chuckled. "I think it was worth the wait, personally. And how many people get to say they made love for the first time on top of a tower in the mountains?"

_Made love_. They really had done that, hadn't they? It wasn't just… "True." Her smile broadened. "I'm fairly certain we scared away the birds a few miles around."

"Just you, Leli," Jaiden teased, earning herself a swat on the nose.

"You were decidedly vocal in your appreciation as well, my Warden. You should be wary of that when we start sharing a tent in case you wake up everyone else in camp."

Jaiden laughed. "Or I could make it worse and give Morrigan something else to complain about." She sat up, cloak falling about her waist and exposing Leliana to the cold again. "We should probably get back down. I'd hate to ruin this by either of us dropping dead of cold."

Leliana was loathe to leave their spot but without Jaiden in the cloaks, the chill rapidly encroached and she was compelled to put on her leathers again. As they headed towards the tower door – Leliana still feeling slightly weak at the knees – Jaiden pulled her in for another kiss. "We'll get a room cleaned up tomorrow," she murmured. "Make the most of it for as long as we're here."

The bard nodded. The opportunity for privacy and comfort would be gone before too long. Her thoughts were still vaguely muddied by the idea of the constant denial of her feelings and the temptation just being washed away; she could be with Jaiden and kiss her and love her, and there was no Marjolaine to hold her back. She had no idea how long she had with her Warden but she would make the most of every day she did.

Leliana's hand found Jaiden's again as they descended the tower. As they entered the entrance hall again to a wolf-whistle from Zevran, she realised for that for first time, it felt as though her wishes had been granted. She was completely, irrepressibly happy.


	24. Unforeseen Complications

**Two updates in the same month what even is this? :D**

**Morrigan came out of the woodwork more easily than I thought so I decided to pummel out this chapter as quickly as possible before she stopped talking to me again. Thanks to Freckles04 for beta'ing and pointing out my 90 uses of the word 'was'! *winces* Thank you everybody who reviewed, your comments keep my plugging away at this and I hope you all like the twist near the end. **

**-Genjutsu-Dragon**

* * *

After two days with the Wardens, Morrigan had been convinced it would not take long for the pair to lead her into a group of darkspawn and promptly be killed, leaving her to fly back to Flemeth and suggest that she might have plucked better soldiers from the battle; there had been other Grey Wardens on the field, it would not have cost her mother much extra effort to snatch up a couple from there rather than the top of the Tower. At least then she might have travelled with veterans rather than one authority-shy ex-templar and an elf who entered battle so recklessly that she might have had 'homicidal maniac' printed across her forehead.

Several months on, she had become better acquainted with Jaiden, at least enough to understand the woman's viciousness in battle to a small degree. She kept Alistair at arm's length for the purpose of her own sanity, although she knew that the more she needled him the more difficult it would be to carry out her role in Flemeth's plans. Nonetheless, she continued to be baffled by the decisions the pair made. Killing bandits in their way made sense, but going _out_of their way, sometimes by miles, to help out people unable or unwilling to fend for themselves simply smacked of insanity. Aggravatingly, the only person who shared this sentiment appeared to be the Qunari. Everyone else talked of morality and more recently Jaiden cited politics, the reasoning of which Morrigan could follow a little. They needed to earn the trust of the nobles in order to gather enough strength to fight the horde. It would be so much easier if the overprivileged classes realised that there was not much point to owning land that had been ruined by the the Blight, however.

This observation, along with the contact with the world outside the Wilds so far, had given Morrigan the opinion that civilisation was wildly overrated.

Still, with the overall plan in mind, she bore the indignity of dwelling in stinking inns and being made to save snivelling refugees, the indigestion caused by Alistair's cooking and the mindlessly stupid decisions to which both Wardens were prone. The entire search for the Ashes could have been rendered unnecessary had they simply slain the possessed child and allowed Bann Teagan to take Eamon's place. To Morrigan's mind, they would have been better off without Eamon's voice in the Landsmeet anyway. The man's eagerness to set the fool on the throne was bad enough, without his scrambling to regain ground with Alistair after years of basically ignoring him. Eamon presumably believed himself to be subtle, but to Morrigan his intentions to the threads of power were clear.

Still, he had influence, and so he had been saved. And they had traipsed across half of Ferelden to slay the bardmaster and been further held up by Jaiden's subsequent injuries, and then they had gone to reclaim a fort that she doubted anybody recalled except for the Wardens themselves, and _then_they had elected to wait while Alistair had a woman's armour refitted for him and Jaiden had a nice set of drakescale leathers made for her. And all the while the darkspawn were continuing to spread across Ferelden. Thinking about it usually sent dull pain ricocheting between her temples, so Morrigan thought of it as little as possible.

Even more so now she had other things to worry about. Discovering the contents of Flemeth's grimoire had been disturbing, to say the least. A prickling of something that might have been sorrow at the betrayal had been easily quashed by anger. She was not a _thing_to possess, not some empty vessel just awaiting an abomination's presence. She would not simply wait for Flemeth to make her move. But neither could she deal with the problem alone.

Extreme reluctance to pose the question she needed to ask of Jaiden kept her quieter than usual for a very long time. They had spanned most of Ferelden in the time it took her to work out how she would ask a favour – ugh, even the concept chafed – of the Warden. Initially she had assumed she could cite the darkspawn slain and the wounds she had healed as reasons to comply. She could even try making a joke of it and point out that she had not turned Alistair into a toad yet, as sorely tempted as she had been. As luck of its own peculiar sort would have it, Jaiden asked _her_a favour before she ever had to broach the topic herself, and she managed to negotiate an exchange.

Nobody in their group, besides her, knew how to track in a forest. The Brecilian spread over thousands upon thousands of miles and housed spirits beyond counting. Less swampy than the Wilds, but similar enough that she would be able to find her way with relative ease – specifically, looking for signs of a camp. The Dalish were hard to find, unless you were the daughter of the Witch of the Wilds. The painted elves called her mother Asha'Belanar and respected her. Hopefully that respect would extend to not shooting the whole lot of them should they find out that Flemeth's daughter wandered their woods with an extremely strange assortment of companions.

Jaiden had asked her to lead, which turned out to be strange experience in itself. Normally she walked towards the back of their group, the presence of Shale and Sten ensuring her that nobody would creep up behind her and leaving the rest of their companions to chatter and bicker and in some instances flirt towards the front. She felt very exposed standing at the head of the column, and used every opportunity she had to change into a bird and rise above the trees, searching for an encampment.

Still, she had her payment. She likely would have performed the task anyway even without an incentive beyond her end goal, but as Jaiden had talked of exchanging favours first, Morrigan had found it an easy way of getting what she wanted. The elf had sat with her as she talked about the contents of the grimoire and the plans Flemeth had for her, risking a sympathetic squeeze to the witch's shoulder. Morrigan was still not comfortable with the casual touching so many of their company displayed, but she accepted the gesture of comfort without twitching and kept her voice from getting too tight as she explained what she had wanted.

Naturally, Jaiden had been very dubious about trying to slay a centuries-old abomination, and Morrigan had pressured her a little, pointing out that she had stuck beside the Wardens despite her clear disapproval of some of their actions. Well, pretty much all their actions up to this point. From her point of view, the smartest decisions they had made so far had been recruiting the Qunari and the golem. Jaiden's uncomfortable fidgeting proved that she saw the sense in this opinion.

"I don't know how we will do it or when we'll have the opportunity," Jaiden had warned her. "You're right, we've spent far too much time getting off-track. Mostly my fault." Her gaze had turned towards where the bard sat, deep in conversation with Zevran. Another irritant, that Jaiden would let herself be turned soft by the Orlesian's wiles. It made her weak. Morrigan suspected that any attempt to point this out would be met with a snarl, so she kept her thoughts on that front to herself and focused on getting what she needed. "It's all about the Blight from now on. We'll get the treaty from the Dalish, resupply in Redcliffe, and then go straight to Orzammar. Hopefully after that it won't take too long to arrange the Landsmeet."

Hopefully. Hopefully the nobles would not spend months squabbling with one another as Ferelden crumbled under the ravages of the darkspawn. Morrigan never put much stock in hope. Skill and power always won out over luck, in the end; a healthy amount of determination never hurt either. So she clung to hers, telling herself that being steadfast in her support of the Wardens even if she disliked their course, she would eventually be paid back. Just because Flemeth had to die did not mean the plan had to be abandoned.

So in trade for her mother's death, she led their group through the forest. It might have been soothing to be amongst trees again, with the noises of the forest all around, even amusing to watch the ex-templar jump every time a twig snapped – which, with his clumsy steps, happened fairly often. But her skin started prickling shortly after they entered and had not stopped. Magic imbued the forest, and not just that of the darkspawn emissaries they encountered on occasion. It was not like anything Morrigan imagined the Dalish were capable of conjuring. Old magic, and very powerful. Morrigan hovered between the primal thrill of being so close to something with that strength, and very nervous. If whatever power resided within the forest chose to turn against them, they would likely be killed.

Therefore, feeling the press of several pairs of eyes hiding amongst the trees on the fifth day came as a relief, and she pulled up sharp to let the hidden elves know that she knew they were there. The others reached for their weapons, and she could feel Wynne drawing power from the Fade, but she kept her staff in its sling and held up both hands, trying to ignore the look of astonishment that the ex-templar directed at the back of her neck. "What are you up to, Morrigan?"

"Be silent, fool. Say a word wrong here and you may get five arrows in your neck."

"You would have been correct had you said twenty." The voice sounded from amongst the trees, clearly the Common tongue but with the unmistakable lilt of the Dales. "You draw close to our camp, outsiders. Choose another path."

"My name is Morrigan, daughter of Asha'Belanar." Silence followed; either for reverence or for them to decide whether or not to shoot her, Morrigan could not be sure. "I accompany the Grey Wardens, seeking to fulfil the treaty your people signed centuries ago to join forces against the Blight."

A long pause followed, and Morrigan risked lowering her arms. When the voice sounded again, it had an unsure edge to it. "What proof have you?"

"We carry the treaties. Bring us to your Keeper and we will show him."

Another pause, and she heard Alistair mutter something inaudible to Jaiden. Fortunately, her patience paid off before either Warden decided to do something foolish like challenge their watchers to single combat. "Very well. We will lead you to camp, but should we see so much as a twitch towards your weapons, you will be fired upon."

A lithe figure separated itself from the shadows and came towards them, bow stored away but with a dagger clutched tight. The elf was female and painted with the vallaslin of the Hunter, appropriately enough. She eyed the Wardens with curiosity, eyes lingering on the griffin design etched onto the front of Jaiden's leathers. "I did not suspect that one of the Wardens would be an elf."

Jaiden looked back at the woman with undisguised fascination. Morrigan wondered what it was like for an elf who had always been caged to come face to face with one who had always been free. They shared the pointed ears but when they talked, the witch suspected that they would find themselves to be almost separate species. Zevran also eyeing the guard with interest, but with the usual sort of interest he displayed in anybody with a good pair of legs. He had apparently spent some time with the Dalish when he had removed himself from the Crows, and disliked the lifestyle enough to prefer that of an assassin.

The other humans were of course looking around at the other hunters emerging from the trees with wonder and a little wariness. Shale and Sten were as ever unreadable. Fortunately, none of them appeared to decide now would be a good moment to ask probing questions, and they followed in silence as their group followed the guides towards the camp.

Morrigan smelt the stench of fetid flesh before they even reached it.

Boy had picked up on it as well, snorting through his nose in an approximation of disgust, and as they drew closer to the source every member of the group had gone from interested to faintly sickened. Morrigan supposed that without so much exposure to darkspawn rot by now, most of them would be retching.

The Keep stood near a clearing that had been filled with pallets. Most of the pallets bore Dalish hunters, faces contorted in agony from wounds that gaped wide. The Dalish healers were not slack, and so this must be something beyond their healing. The Keeper looked over his injured charges with a resigned expression, face twisting in sympathy at one bloodied woman being carried away, presumably to be buried. As Morrigan listened, she detected a strange note in the cries of the sick. Almost as if they were…howling.

The Keeper turned, and his eyebrows rose at the sight of their group. "Grey Wardens," he murmured. "Well, I never would have imagined it." His gaze flicked over Morrigan, the slight inclination of his head indicating that he knew, or had been informed, of the connections she had. She didn't return it, but neither did she adopt the disdainful expression she would have for anybody else who had let their clan get into this state. The Keeper, who introduced himself as Zathrian, was powerful. Very powerful and very old.

Jaiden took over as leader again, stepping forward to introduce herself. Her diplomatic approach had improved, but her politely-worded demand that Zathrian honour the terms of the treaty lacked strength; a tremor shook her voice and she stopped dead at one point as a new wail of agony rent the air. Morrigan separated herself from the others to look at the makeshift infirmary. Guards stood around, faces taut with fear. As she watched, it became clear why.

One of the injured began to twist and buck, limbs swelling and elongating with alarming speed. Teeth curved to points and yellow eyes rolled, but no more of the change could happen as several arrows found their way into the elf's flesh. If it could rightly be called an elf, anyway. Morrigan now knew what the elves were struggling with, and sighed as she realised what would happen next.

"Maker's Breath!" The soft gasp from the bard returned her attention to the group; everybody else had been watching the transformation, and Zathrien nodded his head with a sad aspect as they looked back to him.

"Werewolves. They attacked our clan a while ago and slew a great number of us, infecting others that lived. We had hoped to form a more organised defence and slay the beasts, but they are too many and live in parts of the forest even we Dalish avoid. These circumstances had necessitated us sending hunters in to try and find the cure, but none have made it back uninjured. We had supplies, but we have been here too long. Our stock runs low and we cannot leave this place without being attacked. In effect, Warden, where they do not kill us, they starve us out. There is no leaving this place to send word to the other clans." The leader dropped his gaze. "I apologise. I understand the dangers of the Blight very well indeed, but it is impossible for us to fulfil the terms of the treaty."

"There's a cure?" Wynne spoke up now. "What is it?"

Zathrian gave his answer; a great wolf by the name of Witherfang had bought about the curse, and its heart might be of use in curing the hunters. While he kept his eyes fixed on Jaiden and Alistair, lamenting his failure in finding the beast himself, Morrigan sensed something that did not quite fit with what he was saying. His pride as a Dalish would not allow him to directly ask a flat-ear and a human for help, but he could not have worded it more like an invitation to offer that help had he tried. His eyes just seemed a little too calculating as Jaiden made the inevitable offer, weighing her up.

Of course, he eventually accepted. One more thing to keep them from attending to the issue of the Blight. Fortunately, even Jaiden seemed to have hit her limit over how much they could delay; Leliana clearly wanted to stay in the camp and find out more about the wild elves, but Morrigan was gratified to hear the Warden telling her lover that such things could wait until they had cleared up this werewolf problem. So much time had been wasted on the bard and her whims thus far that she was cheered by the fact that Jaiden would not always put the woman's desires ahead of her duty. Although that did not make the looks the pair shot each other from time to time any less sickening.

Having resupplied and rested their feet for an hour, the group took Zathrian's directions towards the south-east of the forest. They had half a day of daylight left, and could cover quite a bit of ground in that time. Morrigan did not allow herself to be optimistic in the way the others were about getting this task done quickly, however. The further they went into the forest the stronger the sensation of magic became; the Circle mage looked very uncomfortable and even those without the gift began to look jumpy.

They encountered nothing for the first few miles, which Morrigan found unsettling. The forest should have been teeming with life but an oppressive feel in the air had clearly driven all the wildlife off, save for a very bloated bear that they found gorging itself on the carcass of a templar. The bear had its back to them and they could have crept by without trouble, but of course the ex-templar had reacted to the death of one of his former brethren and had charged forward to engage the animal in combat. A huge paw swept Alistair off his feet like swatting a fly, and then the creature promptly keeled over dead as a poisoned arrow from Leliana's bow found its mark.

"Well done, fool." Morrigan could not help the jibe as Sten helped Alistair back to his feet. "If foes within the forest were not already aware of our presence, then you made good and sure of it with your hollering."

"What was I supposed to do, stand there and let it eat him?" Alistair looked sickened as he glanced at the corpse. "Or her. I…I can't tell."

"Yes," Morrigan replied bluntly, irritated. "The templar died long before we reached this point, and kept the bear distracted from our passing. You achieved nothing beyond making an unnecessary racket."

"Enough, Morrigan!" Jaiden glowered at her rather than fixing her with a resigned stare. A step too far, then. "We don't have time for you two arguing. If something did notice us we need to get away from here quickly."

"How refreshing it is to hear a sound decision," Morrigan responded, but under her breath. Now that Jaiden had agreed to kill her mother it would not do to push her luck until Flemeth had been slain. As well as that, the feel of Alistair's glare burning holes in her neck served as a reminder that she really needed to start holding her tongue if she wanted to retain any hope of achieving her long-term goals. They left the scene behind quickly and continued along their path.

A mile after that, they encountered the werewolves. Leliana's bow already had an arrow nocked and had been lifted when Jaiden caught her lover's wrist, drawing everybody's attention to the fact that while they were in plain sight, the creatures were not attacking. They simply stood there, stances aggressive but doing nothing to incur violence as yet. Gingerly, Jaiden approached, and Morrigan readied lightning in her hand. It would be a sad thing to have come so far only to see the elf get ripped apart by an overgrown dog.

Only these were clearly more than dogs. As Jaiden stepped forward, the one at the head of the others spoke in a guttural voice. "So you have come to do the whim of the Dalish." The other werewolves snarled. "Turn back now, elf. You will not have Witherfang's heart."

Morrigan restricted her reaction to a raised eyebrow; Jaiden's did not make the effort to subdue her response. "I didn't realise werewolves could speak. Zathrian gave the impression you were savage and mindless."

A deaf person would not have missed the growling that came at the sound of the Keeper's name. "Zathrian knows nothing! We were savages once but now our thoughts are clear! If you do not turn back, do not doubt that we will rip you to shreds to keep you from the white wolf."

Jaiden persisted. She asked the werewolf, who had dubbed himself Swiftrunner, how he came to be familiar with Zathrian, how he learned to speak, what he knew of their purpose in the forest. The only answers she got were an escalation of angry growls until Swiftrunner had finally had enough. "No more questions! Turn back!"

"No." Jaiden met Swiftrunner's glare with an equally baleful look of her own. "Give me answers."

Swiftrunner's response was to lift a paw towards Jaiden. The elf ducked out of reach and suddenly the clearing filled with with the sound of angry howls as other werewolves were summoned out of the forest to join the fray. Not too many, however; Shale crushed two easily and Asala swung to decapitate two more barely seconds after they joined the fight. Leliana retreated to the same distance as the mages, firing and biting down hard on her lip, presumably to stop herself calling out warnings to her lover.

As it turned out, they did not need to be concerned about Jaiden.

Alistair's armour protected him well and his shield made his left side an impenetrable wall. In his full armour, only his face went unprotected, and he should have been invincible. But it rapidly became clear that even the Warden armour could not protect him completely, as Alistair was borne to the ground under the weight of a werewolf; the ex-templar lifted his arms to shield his face, a fraction before jaws lunged forward. In a move that proved the werewolves were definitely capable of tactical thinking, the creature on his chest caught the gauntlet and ripped it off before sinking its teeth into Alistair's arm and worrying the flesh.

Morrigan had seen innumerable injuries since joining the Wardens, and some corpses with wounds far worse than Alistair's, but as the spray of blood obscured Alistair's face from view Morrigan felt the bile rise in her gut. Without him, everything in the last few months would have been for naught.

Leliana's rising scream brought her back to sensibility as well as Jaiden's cry of _"Alistair!"_; caught in her own fight with a werewolf and Zevran keeping Swiftrunner's attention diverted from their leader, she could not do anything to reach him. Morrigan reacted before the others could reach the ex-templar, knowing they could not do so before the beast ripped Alistair's arm off. A powerful blast of lightning shot forward to knock the werewolf off Alistair and nearly incinerating it in the process, Morrigan sweating with the effort of controlling the electricity so it did not travel to Alistair in his metal suit.

Their group had not taken the worst of the damage and Swiftrunner fell back, calling to the others to retreat and let the forest take care of the invaders. Morrigan only hesitated long enough to check that the werewolves were not attempting to trick them before rushing forward after the others to examine the damage to Alistair's hand.

By some mercy it had not been completely wrecked. The bone had broken and the flesh torn, but not beyond healing. What concerned Morrigan far more was the distinctive smell emanating from the wound, the same one as had come from those of the injured hunters in the camp. Wynne sat back on her heels, not meeting Jaiden's eyes as she carefully applied a poultice directly into the wound. Everyone waited in complete silence as the healer poured magic, encouraging the bone to knit and the muscles to reattach, not wanting to voice the question that sat on all their minds.

Morrigan already knew the answer, and prepared to remind them that time was now even more of the essence. When Alistair's moans had died down a little, she spoke up.

"He is infected." Jaiden's head snapped up towards her, green eyes desperate and face pale. "We must move quickly; we should not even stop if possible. Lycanthropy typically takes two days to start taking a strong hold on the victim. We could find the lair by then and persuade Zathrian to spare some of the cure for us when we return to the camp." Yellow eyes observed the Warden lying on the ground, face flecked with blood and sweat. "T'is best he remain with us, rather than sending him back to the camp. The guards may be a little more eager to end his life early and spare themselves the trouble of another werewolf than we would like."

"Is Morrigan standing up for me?" Alistair mumbled, eyes shut. "I'm in the Fade. Or I'm already delusional."

"At least you're still capable of being snarky," Jaiden commented drily, although the smile that accompanied it was far too rigid. "She's right. We'll concentrate on finding wherever the werewolves are hiding and get this curse sorted before it takes hold of you properly, okay?" She grasped Alistair's uninjured arm and helped him to his feet.

"Is the other Warden going to become furry?" Shale asked. "Will it try to eat its companions?"

"Hopefully not," Jaiden said, indicating for Sten to come forward and guard Alistair's sword-arm; with the damage to his sinew, he could not carry his weapon. The magic had not completely healed the wound and the ex-templar's jaw tightened as he fought the pain.

"A pity. That would be interesting to watch."

"Let us be on our way." Wynne's voice was as clipped as Morrigan's usually was, although the witch was capable of reading the worry in the other woman's eyes. "We have no time to waste."

Morrigan fell back to her usual position in line, trying to keep her focus off the ex-templar and the moans that escaped through his gritted teeth and keep an eye out for danger. If they encountered no more trouble within the forest before the lair, they should make it back to the camp in time before Alistair surrendered to the curse. She could not allow herself to think about what would follow if they did not succeed.

* * *

***Dodges rocks***


	25. From Bad To Worse

**Choosing the wrong voice for a chapter can really take it out of you. I think I must have cycled through every other possibility before settling on Wynne for the latter half, and have cut out and re-written the last part of this chapter a ridiculous number of times. I can only apologise for the delay and thank those who have reviewed; knowing that people are still following this keeps me going. Usual disclaimer applies.**

**-Genjutsu-Dragon-**

* * *

Jaiden had decided that she hated forests.

She hadn't been too down with nature to begin with. Having spent most of her life within city walls, trying to become adapted to a lifestyle where she spent most of her time in a tent or following dirt-roads clogged with mud had taken some time and even now she would trade every last coin she had picked up since fleeing Ostagar for a guaranteed month under a roof that didn't leak. Finding wood that wasn't damp for fires to cook on wasn't her favourite pastime either, but she had adapted and knew how to do what she needed in order to make camping more comfortable. Unfortunately, there was nothing she could do to encourage the sound of wind whispering through the trees to sound less like ghosts or approaching enemies, or the fall of leaves not to sound like a thousand insects skittering towards them.

And given that they were in the Brecilian, she _knew_ that some of the noises she heard were not caused by any natural source. She'd made the mistake of asking Leliana for tales about the forest during their search for the Dalish, and while she had enjoyed watching her bard become animated with the stories she told, she had not been so pleased by the suggestion that they were being watched. Given the number of times they had been set on by darkspawn, animals, werewolves and at one point a sodding coterie of blood mages, they probably were, by something either planning on robbing them or having the group for its next meal. The attacks had tapered off in the last couple of days, presumably because everything they'd come up against had died and they had not, but sitting on the log to carry out her shift on watch, Jaiden still felt the press of eyes staring from the shadows of the forest.

The occasional guttural noises of pain coming from Alistair's tent did nothing to ease her nerves either. He'd managed to cope for the first day after the attack, although he was sweating and burned with a fever, and his wound simply refused to close properly. They'd had to wind bandages around it to keep it shut and replace them every few hours as they soaked through with Alistair's blood. Her fellow Warden bit his lip and only occasionally made noises that let him know how much he suffered, but it was clear in the clench of his jaw, in the misty look in his eyes that showed he was trying to separate himself from the agony.

The day after that, they'd come across a werewolf who did not have the savagery of the others; instead it was curled up and gasping, begging them for the mercy of a quick death as soon as they came across it. It had claimed to be a Dalish elf transformed, and Leliana and Wynne stepped forward to vouch for it – her – as soon as the creature gave a name. Apparently while Jaiden and Alistair had been busy sorting supplies, the pair had met a hunter who had asked them to try and unravel the mystery of his wife's disappearance. Unfortunately, there was nothing to be done for the woman. She could be left to transform and become feral, driven mad by the burning in her blood, or killed. Her speech was frequently interrupted by pained whimpers and once they had established she was not a threat, Boy nosed at her, letting out a sympathetic whine. Alistair made an unnervingly similar noise when Jaiden delivered the cut.

On the third day, it felt like they'd killed everything in the forest. They'd run into two ogres squatting amongst some ruins and Jaiden had needed every ounce of her self-control not to run screaming from the creatures whose kin had nearly crushed her to pulp in Honnleath; fortunately, without the added distraction of other darkspawn and a few freezing spells, it hadn't taken a huge amount of time to hack at swollen sinew enough to bring the ogres down to a killable level. Within the same ruins lurked a coterie of blood mages who might have let them on their way, had Alistair not gone charging in without direction. Even after a couple of days it was easy to see the brutal edge to his fighting style and his obvious discomfort with the weapons he was normally so used to wielding. He stood awkwardly, moved with difficulty, and rarely spoke, breath hissing out between his teeth in low growls as he fought the curse. There were other darkspawn, other werewolves, and Jaiden's own patience was fraying as they tried following a trail through a foggy section of the forest and continued to wind up at the same spot time and time again.

There was some comfort to be found in Leliana's presence. Despite the tension affecting their whole group, she remained optimistic without being irritatingly so, and she always seemed to know just when Jaiden needed somebody to touch her hand or her shoulder or brush lips against her cheek. The fleeting contact kept her steady, reminding her that after they had finished this – there _would_ be an after, she would make damn sure of that – they could indulge in touches that were not nearly so brief. After so long it seemed a little strange that she could kiss the bard as she pleased (within reason), or return her incidental touches with more meaning that she had before, but she was grateful for it beyond her ability to articulate. She just hoped Leliana understood.

Their encounter with the Grand Oak towards the beginning of the trek had been dismissed; as far as Jaiden was concerned, they didn't have time to hunt through the whole forest for a single acorn, but find it and the thief they did. The mad hermit led them on an appropriately maddening guessing game, apparently oblivious to the clenching of Alistair's fist around the hilt of his sword. Eventually they traded a book for the acorn and it was decided that they would return to the Oak to ask for help in navigating the forest. With clear disgust written across her face, Morrigan had judged the mists to be magical, and she could not lead them through, so they had to rely on other means.

The slender ray of hope given when the Oak bequeathed them with a branch to fool the mists into not getting them lost again was snuffed out when they bedded down that night.

Alistair had torn off his armour as though it chafed him and couldn't seem to settle, pacing the perimeter of their camp in tunic and breeches, swinging his sword from one hand. He had accepted the bowl of boiled vegetables that was all they had found today with visible disgust and had put it down after only a few mouthfuls, even though Jaiden knew his belly would still be aching with hunger. His restlessness had only become worse since the meagre meal, and Jaiden wondered if he would ever tire himself out enough to try and sleep.

"We should hunt."

Apparently not.

Jaiden looked up from the sword she had been sharpening and shook her head. "It's too dark now, Alistair. We shouldn't go far from the fire."

Alistair glowered down at her. "Are you afraid?"

"I'm cautious about wandering around in a forest full of demons, walking trees, werewolves and darkspawn in the first place, let alone at night."

"So you are afraid."

"I didn't say that. I'm just telling you that it's a bad idea to try and hunt now. If you get lost you'll never find your way back to camp again."

Alistair towered over her, and Jaiden felt the mood shift. Hands edged towards daggers, and Morrigan and Wynne only need to reach a little way for their staves. None of them would willingly attack Alistair – with the possible exception of Morrigan, of course, and even she wouldn't actually want to kill him – but everyone was prepared to stop him if he became any more aggressive. Only Sten and Shale didn't move, but like everyone else their gazes were now fixed on the Wardens. Jaiden stood up and met Alistair's gaze. He was trying to intimidate her.

"Stand back."

"What if I don't?" He leaned down until he was nose to nose with Jaiden. "What will you do? You're not like Eamon. You can't send me away on a whim."

Jaiden fought the urge to take a step back. She hadn't been this unnerved even when she faced down Sten. Of course, then she had known what he expected her to do and had a good idea of what he planned to do to counter her movements. Alistair was barely Alistair anymore and she didn't know what he might do. "I don't want to send you away. I'd just like you to stop breathing in my face."

Alistair bared his teeth for a moment, and then blinked and with a visible effort stepped back. His brow shone with sweat, and where he had been almost red before he was now pale. "It's burning…it hurts…" Fingers curled at his temples. "Jaiden, I don't think I can hold it back!"

"You have to!" He couldn't change, he couldn't abandon her and leave her to be the only Warden in Ferelden with a Blight crashing down on them. Jaiden caught his arm. "We can't be far now, you just have to hang on for another few hours."

Alistair's hand seized her wrist, painfully strong. "I can't…"

"Let go!" Jaiden's voice was reduced to an agonised gasp. Alistair hadn't been this strong before, she was sure of it. Not so strong that he felt like he could break her arm with one hand. The others were up now, talking over one another to try and get Alistair to see sense, and Jaiden gritted her teeth and tried prising his fingers off her arm.

This had the result of Alistair grabbing her by the throat. Jaiden was vaguely aware of Leliana calling her name and the flare of magic on the edge of her vision, but it all subsided to the edge of her consciousness as she watched the last traces of humanity drain out of Alistair's eyes. Right in front of her, his face began to twist and change, and Jaiden's heart plummeted. They were too late.

She probably had only seconds before he pulled her head off her shoulders. One hand thumbed her dagger out of her belt and she steeled herself to push it through his ribs. The curse caused agony, and even though she'd failed to save Alistair she could at least spare him further pain.

Instead, a blast of magic knocked both of them to the side and Jaiden went sprawling. Alistair loosed a high-pitched whine that no human throat could achieve before wheeling around to glare at Morrigan. He was already almost unrecognisable, fur lining his limbs and his lips skinning back from teeth that reached points. Morrigan faced the thing that had been Alistair coolly, and when he advanced towards her fired another arcane bolt directly into his chest.

He leapt back and growled in pain, looking around at the assembled group. Leliana had run to Jaiden's side but the others stood in a semi-circle, weapons drawn and ready to fight. The werewolf had clearly not dominated Alistair's mind enough to make him foolish and attempt to fight all of them. Instead he turned and ran, disappearing into the dark forest and leaving his former companions staring after him.

* * *

"Jaiden. We need to stop."

They were nearly at the lower levels of the ruins. In the middle of the large chamber they had just left, a dead dragon was sprawled across the dais and behind that was a long trail of slain undead that led almost from the entrance. Wynne had felt how thick the air was with magic even before they had beaten back the Gatekeeper and Swiftrunner, and it had only become more powerful the further down they went. The Veil was thin as well and Wynne heard ceaseless murmuring from every corner. Some were simply the voices of long-lost dreamers, some had more sinister intent. None had as yet tried to directly appeal to them, however. That was fortunate, considering how much else they had to worry about – and how exhausted their entire group was.

Jaiden had struck camp moments after Alistair had bolted and they had set out into the dark to try and cover the rest of the ground between them and the ruins. Their torches had attracted every sort of trouble on the way and they had accidentally broken some wards that had been laid around a grave, bringing down a revenant on them. It had taken both Leliana and Zevran holding Jaiden back to keep the Warden from taking on the thing by herself, and Sten had eventually bought it down. He had earned a nasty gash across the jaw during the fight, one that should have been examined immediately, but Sten had brushed Wynne off before daubing poultice into the wound and Jaiden had twitched impatiently as he did so before starting off again the moment Sten could lift Asala.

It had been non-stop since then. They had encountered Swiftrunner again outside the ruins and this time Jaiden did not attempt courtesies. After a brief heated exchange in which both Jaiden and Swiftrunner promised to tear each others' skins off, they had fought off another six werewolves and Jaiden had almost succeeded in slain Swiftrunner, only to be knocked back as a white wolf rushed her off her feet. Rather than taking advantage of a fallen foe and an exposed throat, the wolf howled and every werewolf ran off into the forest once more.

Well, at least they knew now that there was actually a Witherfang. Wynne and Morrigan had both felt the magic, which was ancient – older even than these ruins, certainly. It was wild magic too, not something that had been shaped and leashed by a Chantry mage. Normally Wynne would have been fascinated but now she found herself wishing they could catch up to Witherfang and get this over with. The idea of tearing the heart out of anything for the purpose of magic was abhorrent but if it cured the curse as Zathrian had promised, they might be able to find Alistair.

Wynne knew this was what drove Jaiden as she did. Having seen what happened to Danalya while she was transforming, they knew the measure of pain Alistair would be in and how he could very likely hurt himself. As well as that, Jaiden did not want to be the only Warden left in Ferelden. Wynne had no doubt she was thinking mostly of that, but if they didn't succeed they had a far bigger problem on their hands. If they returned to Eamon without Alistair – and therefore a viable candidate for the throne – would he aid them? Or would he decide it was better to hand them all over to Loghain?

They had to at least find Alistair.

That had spurred them this far but everyone had their limits. The moment Wynne had decided there would be a rest stop, Zevran had immediately plopped himself down on the ground and ignored Jaiden's order to get to his feet. Leliana was almost swaying with exhaustion but had kept herself upright, one hand resting on her lover's shoulder. Sten remained on his feet but Boy immediately sat down the moment they paused, clearly grateful for a rest.

"We can't." Jaiden's voice was hoarse, but stern. "We're close."

"We have no idea how big these ruins are, or what else awaits us. They might be another few floors down. We might reach a lower chamber and discover there's a route out to the forest and Witherfang has already escaped through there. Whatever happens, if we all collapse or we're too exhausted to fight off the werewolves, what good is it? We'll be slaughtered and all hope of Ferelden surviving this Blight is lost."

"But we are close." Wynne was surprised that Morrigan had offered a contribution. The other mage had perched herself on a piece of stone, the only indication of the effort she had expended being the slow blinks that meant she sometimes took far too long to open her eyes. "This is old magic, Jaiden. I can feel the threads of it running through this place, and they culminate not far beneath us."

Jaiden turned to give Wynne a look that said _see?_, reminding Wynne again of just how young their leader was. Morrigan was not finished, however. "If anything, I think that absolutely means we should rest. You want everyone to be at their full strength before fighting Witherfang. He is an unknown quantity, and undoubtedly ancient. We have no idea what exactly it is we're fighting but I assure you that it is not simply a wolf." Golden eyes locked on Jaiden's. "If you want Alistair to be returned hale and whole, you must give us a chance to replenish our energies before we have to fight again."

It was one of the few times Wynne had ever heard Morrigan refer to Alistair by his name, and the argument worked. Jaiden visibly deflated. "But..."

"Please rest, Jaiden." Leliana spoke now. "For me?"

That took the last of the wind out of the Warden and after a few moments she nodded. She was clearly hurt that Leliana had argued against continuing the search for Alistair right this moment and pushed her lover's hand off her shoulder before kneeling next to Boy, wrapping her arms around his thick neck before curling up on her side on the floor. She was asleep in seconds. Leliana took the slight in her stride and pulled a blanket from her travelling pack before lying down next to Jaiden and pulling it over both of them, kissing her lover's cheek before settling. Morrigan rolled her eyes and stalked off to a quieter corner while Wynne and Sten set a small fire. The wilder witch did not look to be settling to sleep, however. As Wynne looked over at the younger woman, she saw an expression she had only seen on Morrigan's face once before, when Jaiden had nearly been crushed by that ogre. Worry, intermingled with not a little fear.

Sten elected to take guard but Wynne did not immediately settle to sleep. Instead she walked over to Morrigan, unsure of what she would say. The younger woman had disliked her from the first and most of Wynne's attempts to get her to talk about her upbringing by Flemeth and life in the Wilds had been cut short by a contemptuous comment or stony silence. Morrigan kept her own counsel and it was that which made Wynne nervous. There had to be some reason Morrigan hadn't abandoned them by now.

She was no more receptive today than any other time. When she heard Wynne approach Morrigan studied her for a moment before turning her head away, letting out a long-suffering sigh. "Are you planning to attempt to bore me to sleep?"

"I'm more curious to know why you're still awake, given how well you put the case forward for rest," Wynne replied, before seating herself near the other woman.

"You should know that as well as I, old woman. The Veil is too thin here." Wynne could feel it, and with it the whispers that came across the Void, promising many things for just a chance to taste this world. Morrigan had proven herself more than capable of resisting these offers, but that didn't mean she couldn't hear them any less. "I will be fit to fight, if that is your concern."

Wynne could have retreated at this point, but instead she pushed. "I am amazed that you still bother. Time and again you've made the point that you feel that people who cannot help themselves do not deserve help. But you're still with us. You're even taking care of Jaiden." She frowned at the younger woman. "There is no way you can tell precisely where the threads of magic meet. You can feel the flow, but to say that the source is close…I would have felt it too. You only said that as a way of persuading her to rest before she fights another battle."

"I simply pointed out that if she wants to even hope of reuniting with her useless fellow Warden again, she cannot be so tired that the werewolves simply tear us apart."

"I would have thought you would describe hope as being a pointless exercise. Haven't you before?"

"Not if it keeps our leader from either giving up or getting us all killed."

Wynne paused and eyed the other woman thoughtfully. "You don't seem happy as part of our group, performing deeds altruistically. You could have left us long ago. Tell me why you haven't."

"An order now, is it? You sound like Mother." Before Wynne could react to being compared to a centuries-old abomination, Morrigan continued. "I have my own reasons for being here, yes. But I assure you that it is not my intention to bring harm to either of the Wardens. The opposite. I consider both to be vital."

"Even Alistair?"

"Yes." Morrigan paused. Wynne tried to read the other woman's expression and failed. "If he is lost, Jaiden will shortly follow, either killed in battle or giving up entirely when Eamon decides he will not associate with supposed regicides any longer. Ferelden will fall. I have no interest in countries or borders, but it is in my own interests to prevent everything being overrun by darkspawn. That is why I put up with this farce of a quest."

Morrigan's form rippled and shifted, and after a moment a raven flew from where she had been sitting up to a rafter and remained there, head tucked under a wing. Wynne frowned up at her, unease still pricking in her chest. There was something still missing. Morrigan and Flemeth could have kept themselves safe from the darkspawn and the rest of the world could go to the Void, so there had to be some other reason Morrigan had been sent from the Wilds. Try as she might, however, Wynne could not figure it out.

Following her own advice, she slept for a few hours until Sten roused her. Werewolves were howling in the lower ruins and the sound echoed up to them, disembodied and eerie. Despite that, she insisted they eat something before they moved on, and even though it earned another glowering silence from Jaiden it had been the right choice. When they started moving, nobody was lagging behind or exhausted. Zevran was back to making quips about the state of the place and wondering what the smell would be like when they got the main lair, and Jaiden walked with a determined stride that was much stronger than it had been a few hours previously.

They still encountered trouble on the way. Now that they had moved closer to what they assumed would be the main lair, werewolves kept popping out of the darkness, biting and scratching. There were even a few traps laid, too new to have been left by the original occupants of these ruins. Swiftrunner had told them that the werewolves were not simply mindless beasts and they were seeing further evidence of this now. The wolves did not rush them but tried picking at their weak points like a group of human hunters would. If their group had not slept then they might have succeeded, but every attempt was beaten off. The howls in the distance took on a different note. It sounded like wailing.

At long last they came to a larger chamber and three werewolves awaited them, standing in the open. Leliana had an arrow nocked and the elves had both drawn their blades, but none of them attacked just yet, as the one at the head of the three held up both hands in supplication.

"Elf. Enough of this violence." The werewolf dropped his hands; Jaiden did not lower her blades. "We wish to parlay."

"P…what?"

"He wants to talk." Sten's voice was as emotionless as ever, but there seemed to be a touch of anger in those purple eyes now. "A pity the wolves did not when you initially offered them the opportunity."

"Will you give me Witherfang?"

"No." There was a creak as Leliana pulled back the string on her bow, aiming for the leader. Jaiden's stance shifted a little. "But the Lady believes you have not been told everything you need to know. You must come."

Jaiden didn't budge. "One of my friends was turned. We need him back – exactly as he was."

"He is safe. We found him not far from where he fled you and bought him back here." The wolf nodded towards the door behind him. "The Lady suggests there may be a way to end this without further bloodshed."

Wynne didn't see how that could be. They had killed enough werewolves that those which remained would surely not be pleased to have their group walking in their midst, and how were they supposed to reverse the curse without cutting out Witherfang's heart? Jaiden was clearly having the same thought. She edged a little closer to the wolf.

"Do you have a name?"

"Gatekeeper."

"Gatekeeper. We need Witherfang's heart in order to make sure my friend is returned to normal. If we hadn't been attacked we might have found a peaceable solution-"

"And then all the Dalish at the camp would have died and Zathrian would likely refuse to fulfil the treaty," Morrigan pointed out. Wynne could have throttled the younger woman. Hadn't she said she wanted to keep both Wardens alive? And now she was apparently encouraging a violent approach.

Gatekeeper growled. "If it were my choice, I would pull out your heart on the spot, elf. Maybe that would save us from the curse your people heaped on us."

"What?" Jaiden no longer looked grim. Instead she looked stunned, and in that she was not alone. Wynne wondered how they could have got this far without asking how the curse had originated in the first place. Zathrian was old – he should at least have a story to pass on about it.

"It is not for me to speak to you of things you should have asked before you entered our forest. The Lady is waiting for you." He bared his teeth. "If you so much as scratch our Lady I will eat you alive."

Gatekeeper and the other wolves stood aside and allowed them to pass through. Jaiden hesitated and looked back at all of them. It could be a trap, and if it was then they would likely not succeed in fighting their way out. They had killed a large number of the werewolves but had no way of knowing how many more there might be. Even after a few hours of sleep, they were in no shape to fight off an entire army of werewolves at once.

And an army was what awaited them. Or so it looked like – the room was full of them, packed in tightly, and the smell was unbelievable. Wynne supposed it was another tenuous connection to any former humanity the wolves had held, that they would choose to shelter under a roof rather than the protection of the trees, but the effect of an entire pack living down here over years was eye-watering. Wynne blinked to clear her vision and looked around. There was no sign of a white wolf and now the door had been shut behind them and the pack was closing in around them. Wynne readied a spell, and the others prepared. Just because it would be a hopeless fight didn't mean they weren't going to go down without even trying.

Instead of attacking, the wolves fell back, and made way for a figure that stepped up onto the dais, stroking Swiftrunner with a long finger that looked more like wood than flesh. It had the appearance of a woman, but nobody could have thought she was actually a human. Not with the cat-like eyes or the cool green hue of her skin, and the tendrils of leaves that sprouted from and wrapped around her. As if that wasn't clue enough, Swiftrunner's suddenly docility as the figure stroked him confirmed that this was indeed the source of the old magic. It was powerful and majestic and Wynne had to fight the urge to go down on a knee as the werewolves around them were doing. "Greetings. I am the Lady of the Forest."

"Gatekeeper said you have Alistair." Jaiden's response was as blunt as Wynne would have expected, and earned a snarl from Swiftrunner.

"Our Lady has addressed you! You will speak to her with respect!"

For a moment it seemed as though the little control the werewolves had maintained over themselves would break, but the Lady calmed them all just by speaking. "Hush, Swiftrunner! Your desire for battle has cost many lives today. Would you see more sacrificed before the end?"

The hurt in Swiftrunner's eyes was the most human emotion that Wynne had ever seen on an animal's face, and Swiftrunner stepped back. "No, my Lady. Anything but that."

The Lady looked back to Jaiden. "Your companion is recovering. The curse causes unending pain and he has not had the time to adjust. But I assure you, he will be returned to you if you do as I suggest."

"Why should I do that? If you're in charge of these wolves then you're responsible for them attacking the Dalish." Jaiden glared at the Lady. "At the very least you didn't stop them."

"It was the only way to get Zathrian's attention. His clan has passed by this way many times and I always appealed to him for aid. He ignored all of us."

"The Keeper could have cured the curse without Witherfang's heart?" Zevran had been uncharacteristically quiet for the last few minutes, but now he spoke up. The assassin might be lecherous and somewhat lacking in morality, but he was not a fool. "Your werewolves must have cost him hunters before. Why did he not seek to end it before things got out of hand?"

"Because he wanted his people to believe my werewolves are monsters. They are victims of a curse Zathrian himself cast, many years ago."

And then everything began to fall into place. The Lady explained how the humans who had originally been transformed had attacked the clan, murdering Zathrian's son and doing worse to his daughter. The curse had been Zathrian's revenge, which was understandable if not to be condoned. But it had been over a century since then. All the of the murderers were long since dead and their offspring, and those unfortunate enough to wander into the forests and get bitten, remained. It was not just.

Jaiden's expression became ever more clouded with anger as the Lady talked, and even though she had sheathed her weapons her fingers remained curled around the hilts. From where she was standing, Wynne could see that her knuckles had turned white. Then the Lady delivered the worst piece of news.

"If you cut out Witherfang's heart, all my wolves will die. And so will your friend." Up until that moment, the Lady had been purely something of beauty, but now her expression darkened and Wynne felt the same sense of foreboding she had when they'd first disturbed the revenant's wards. "Zathrian's cure will kill us all. The solution I offer will ensure life – even for the elves who have been poisoned but not yet turned."

"So you claim. How are we to know that you are not simply trying to turn us back while you rebuild your defences?" Morrigan's contribution was clipped as ever.

"Would you take the risk of losing him over the chance to save everyone?" Morrigan's silence was answer enough and the Lady looked around at their group. "I simply wish to speak to Zathrian. Go to the camp and bring him here – I promise that I do not intend to harm him. My wolves will ensure you have safe passage there and back. You must persuade him. If he will not come, then the curse will never be cured. His clan will be destroyed in retribution for his refusal to see sense, and you will never see Alistair again."


	26. The Curse of a Long Memory

Whelp, I told myself I'd try to get back to this story, and after Snafu1000's mass repost of Moments in Time and her continuing chapters I felt like I was out of excuses! I'm hoping to dedicate more time to it now. This one was difficult for me to write and probably not my best chapter, as the main voice in it was really difficult for me to latch into. Thank you for all the reviewers who have stuck around and PM'd me to ask about updates. Usual disclaimer applies.

-Genjutsu-Dragon-

* * *

Whether in human form or clad in the skins of beasts, these creatures were no less bent on violence than they had been hundreds of years ago. But at least for centuries it had been the animal savagery natural to their current forms. They were easy to predict, easy to avoid, and while the occasional bold hunter paid for his over-confidence with his life, the clan had barely been effected by them in their beast form. At least nowhere near as much as they had when the monsters had been human. But from the moment Zathrian had led his people into the forest this year, he had noticed the difference in the attacks. Brutality had pared with human cunning and every day for weeks a patrol had been lost or come back crippled with wounds that eventually claimed their lives or turned them.

He should have expected it. For the past few years, he had been receiving messages in his dreams, and through the tug of his connection to the curse. He had even been sent chunks of bark and stone, crude letters scored with claws spelling out pleas for release. That had troubled him. The werewolves had been mindless for so long, and there was no reason why they should have suddenly remembered how to communicate with more sentient beings. It didn't take him long to work out the source of their new abilities, and after that he had staunchly ignored all attempts to get his attention. This wound had bled so long he knew it would never heal, and he would never release the monsters from their curse. The world could turn into dust around him and he would still bind them to it as animals.

He owed his children that much, for his failure in saving them.

The arrival of the Grey Wardens had seemed like providence. His clan, who had held him in such reverence for so long, was starting to blame anybody they could for the attacks, and the fables of his power were beginning to let him down. He could see the resentment in the eyes of men and women he'd dandled on his knee as children, blaming him for not being able to do enough to stop this, and the guilt that followed. Being able to send somebody else to finally claim Witherfang's heart had been a relief, even if he did not truly expect them to succeed.

Jaiden. What a strange flat-ear she was. She had ordered about the human man and the kosslith without a hint of the nervousness most city-born elves would have shown. She had gathered to her side a creature of living rock, assassins, mages, warriors, almost all her companions human. And every single one of them had deferred to her. He knew he couldn't tell her the truth about Witherfang. She had too much sympathy with humans for that. Given how aggressive the werewolves had been, it seemed likely that they would all try to carve her up for being an elf, and she could cut her way through to Witherfang without learning of the details that might turn her against her current cause.

But still. She was an unpredictable woman and he couldn't possibly know how she might decide to proceed if she learned the truth. As he walked through the forest he was shocked by the trail of violence he followed; werewolf corpses, of course, but also darkspawn, mages, and there were areas where the Veil was torn wide open, the sensation of powerful and evil magic like brushing against a raw nerve. Whatever had come through those openings had been put down as brutally as everything else, and Zathrian was able to walk through the forest unchallenged.

It gave him too much time to dwell. Being the Keeper kept him busy, distracted him, stopped him from thinking about his children. The grief and horror of finding his son's body eclipsed by the realisation of what they'd done to his daughter. The flatness of his beautiful girl's gaze when he'd told her what the humans had left her with should have warned him. If he'd known, he could have done something, could have talked her out of it – to what end? To live with the memory of what the humans had done to her, maybe to forever resent the half-breed child she would have borne? Death had been a mercy for her, but it had only steeled Zathrian's resolve. Hate for the monsters burned in him as fresh as it had the day he cast the curse, but now he reflected on it he felt a weariness with it. He'd been holding this grief and anger for so long. He wanted Witherfang dead, and an end to all of this. The werewolves would die, and so would everybody infected. It was an enormous sacrifice for some measure of peace. But he ached for it.

So he wasn't leaving things to chance. Jaiden and her group had cleared most of the way for him. He was old, but he was yet powerful, and if he could get close enough he could claim Witherfang's heart for himself. It might even be better this way. He would have the satisfaction of watching the descendants of those scum die around him. Perhaps on some other plane, the bastards who had caused all this pain in the first place would look down and see the slaughter of their sons and daughters, and at last know the pain that Zathrian had carried all these years.

He met them coming the other way. Every member of the group looked haggard and heavy with the blood drying on their armour. He didn't even begin slightly to hope. Down here, close to the source, the connection to the curse was stronger than ever and he knew that Witherfang still lived. Still, he feigned surprise to see them and asked if Jaiden had the heart.

She didn't try to lie to him, at least. The elven Warden looked as though she had gained twenty years in the last three days, and as Zathrian looked over the group he noted that one of their number was missing. Dead, he hoped. Jaidan's voice was harsh as she explained what she'd seen, and Zathrian came to understand. So. Rather than presenting as a wolf as he'd expected, the spirit he'd summoned had taken the guise of a lady and learned to control the werewolves. Which meant she was the one responsible for the vicious and clever attacks on his clan.

Dalish lore taught that there were not good and spirits as the humans thought. All spirits required a wary approach and a careful hand, and Zathrian had not been careful enough. He'd thought that by bounding the spirit to the body of a wolf, it would have the mind of one. Instead he'd created a powerful and ultimately angry entity. It had to die _today_. And it seemed like the Wardens would have to die with it. If the clan found out about him, curse broken or not, he would be turned out like a common murderer.

As expected, Jaiden tried to persuade him to side with the werewolves. She claimed they were in full possession of their own minds, and simply wanted to be allowed to change back.

"And then what? Do you think they'll just return to the human lands and leave us alone?" Zathrian appealed to her directly. "You've lived in their cities. You'll know the cruelties of which they are capable. If they don't starve to death while learning how to be human again, they'll find other humans and lead them against us. My clan will be hunted and attacked like animals and the cycle of revenge will continue unabated. The only way for an end to this is for me to cut out Witherfang's heart. Then there will be peace and you will have the troops you need for the Blight."

And she needed them desperately. Zathrian had sensed the swell of the great horde. Entire armies would be needed to beat back the Blight, and every day wasted on this curse was another day when the darkspawn spread their pestilence further across Ferelden. And he could see that she knew it.

The human woman with the bow on her back spoke up, her expression challenging. "The Lady suggested that there is a way to end the curse without killing all afflicted by it. Our companion has been turned and we need him as he was."

He affected sympathy. "I am sorry to hear that. Truly. But your friend is gone. If anything of his mind remains, it is as a thrall of the Lady, and if he strays too far from her side he will become a mindless beast. Would it not be better to release him from the agony of his new existence?"

"Not if there's another way." The elder mage's voice was stern. "Is it really worth continuing this curse? These wolves are the descendants of the ones who hurt your family. They offered you no harm until you ignored their pleas for forgiveness."

So the Lady had been honest about that, at least. It did not stop the bitterness welling up in him anew, and snapping at her. "You were not there! You did not see what they did to my son – my daughter! So many fell to them as humans and as beasts they have begun again. There is no difference one way or another. They have to die." He turned to Jaiden. "You will have seen your people suffer at the hands of humans. Did you not wish pain unending on them?"

He felt the mood shift as every face stiffened, and the red-headed human laid her hand on Jaiden's shoulder. Jaiden locked eyes with him. "I tore apart the man who violated my cousin. He was so bloodied that he was barely recognisable anymore. I cut him and every person there responsible for taking her to pieces. But I didn't find their families and punish their children for their crimes."

Further reason would be useless. He had to get to Witherfang. Zathrian lifted his hands in a gesture of defeat. "Very well. I fail to see the use, but I will speak with the beasts, and their spirit."

He would have to act quickly. Once he turned on the wolves, Jaidan might stand against him, and given how she and her companions had fought their way through the forest she might actually be a greater threat than all of the beasts. But for that, she was nowhere near his equal in power. Neither were the two mages that accompanied her. His centuries had not been spent on mourning alone.

The stench of a hundred werewolves living together underground pressed in on him. Further proof, if it were needed, that these creatures really were animals, only responding to their so-called Lady like the mimicking birds that lived in the hotter parts of Thedas. There would be no intelligence behind their words. There was certainly none to be discerned as they reached the bowels of the ruins and stepped in amongst a mass of huge, hairy bodies. The air was thick with the heat of so many packed into one space, and the rumbling growls from a hundred throats rose to a roar as he walked amongst them. Savage, and animal, and thoroughly deserving of their fate. And standing directly in the one beam of light in this dank place, the spirit.

She had chosen a human form, or close enough to it, showing just where her allegiances lay. The Veil seemed to shimmer around her, and Zathrian heard things beyond it, whispering and tempting. He had not been a green apprentice Keeper in many centuries now, and paid the sounds no mind. "So you've taken a name, spirit. And named your pets."

One spoke to him, barely coherent around the growls that chased every word. Zathrian did not give the creature the satisfaction of looking at it. Instead he met the spirit's eyes, narrowing his own as it claimed that the wolves had in fact been the ones to name her. Perhaps so, but without the spirit they would not have been able to do even that. Looking around, he could certainly see now that he'd made a mistake. He should have wiped out all these beasts long ago. What he had created was too dangerous to be allowed to continue. At least he could maybe finish it here.

He could not disguise his intent with his words, and had no desire to do so further. He knew how this would end, but the spirit seemed determined to believe otherwise. "There is room in your heart for compassion, Zathrian. Surely your retribution is spent."

How could anyone or anything believe that? He only had to close his eyes to see his daughter's face, her once light eyes dimmed with pain as he informed her in a voice that had shaken with rage that the humans had left her with child. His son's throat, slashed. And then his daughter, again, sprawled on the floor of the aravel, blood-tinged froth gathering at the corners of her mouth and the black hue of her lips betraying the deathroot that she had used to take her life. Pain on pain on pain, and he had carried his failure to save them all this time. The monsters should bear the weight of it as long as he did, but clearly now an end had come. He resolved it would not be to their advantage. "My retribution is eternal, spirit. As is my pain. This is justice, no more."

Perhaps the spirit realised that persuading him would come to nothing. Instead she sought to undermine his would-be allies, and revealed the truth of what would happen to him if the curse was ended without bloodshed. Jaiden's gaze slid to him as he angrily denied it, her expression shrewd. "So would Zathrian's death end the curse?"

She would do it, there was no question. Her ears might be pointed but there was nothing else in common they shared, nothing at all that would stop her from trying to slay him if she felt it would be the best course of action. Zathrian's lips curled upwards, his smile mirthless. It would not be so easy as that for her. The so-called Lady said as much, but her werewolves took no heed; their alpha demanded that they rip Zathrian to shreds on the spot. _Beasts_.They had no more understanding than the pretty mimicking birds that lived in the northern reaches of Thedas. "What would you gain from killing me? Only I know how the ritual ends, and I will never do it!"

The beasts roared around them, clawing at the air, and the alpha lowered his head, half-crouched to charge. The Warden had gone out of her way to help these creatures and now there were demands for her entire company to be torn apart along with Zathrian, despite the fact it would do nothing at all. For the last time, he demanded that she see sense. He'd seen so many like her pass through his clan over the years – willful young women and men who felt that they knew the best course of action, and they usually paid the price for not listening. She'd allowed him to get this far into the ruins, so he gave her one last chance to help her. "Do what you have come here to do, Grey Warden, or get out of my way."

Jaiden looked away from him, turning about to face her companions. The witch seemed supremely unbothered by what was happening, but the others all met her gaze with the same set look, and Jaiden nodded before turning back to him. "You will end the curse, Zathrian. I won't let you punish these people for what their ancestors did any longer."

_And how do you propose on doing that?_ Sorrow pinched at him as he looked at Jaiden. So many of his kin had died already because of this, and in killing her he would be robbing Ferelden of its last Grey Warden, now that Jaiden's companion had become one with the beasts. But the alternative – letting these creatures walk free – could not be contemplated. He would not do it. "Then you will die with them."

The magic of this place was already strong, the Veil thin enough for him to draw the magic through in seconds. Great limbs of wood burst up through the paving and started to swat the attacking wolves away like flies, and the spirit was forced to take its true form. The white wolf howled as it was trapped, easy prey for when he would take the heart.

He had only taken a step towards it when a chunk of stone caught him in the stomach, sending him staggering back. He barely managed to raise an arcane shield to protect himself from the lightning that followed, and then turned about as Jaiden's other friends descended on him. The kosslith cleaved his way through the thick tree limbs in his way, and the two elves had dodged nimbly around them, blades out. Zathrian spun his staff and vines snagged around ankles and wrists, trying to hold them, but the sweat beaded on his forehead with the effort of managing so many different spells at once.

Age had not left him completely untouched, and while he could guard against magic and blades, he did not account for the fleet feet of the red-headed human. Somehow between the gaps of two writhing branches she found her mark, and a dull thud preceded the pain that welled up in his shoulder, and the blood that seeped around the arrow. It was nowhere near a mortal wound, and neither was it intended to be. Somehow in the chaos of the fight the woman had remembered the imperative of keeping him alive, and he had long enough to acknowledge the thought before Jaiden and the kosslith seized each of his arms, tearing his staff from his grip and throwing it away with a clatter.

He could still send lightning charging through both of them, enough to kill them, and then focus on picking off the others one by one. But the werewolves were still trying to get through to him and the arrow in his shoulder and the effort of caging the spirit was too much. And with a sinking feeling he knew he could not defeat them.

But he didn't haven't to show them mercy. He didn't have to give in to their demands.

"Enough. I yield." The words tasted bitter. He had never succumbed to an enemy in his life, and to have to surrender before these particular enemies was the worst kind of pain. One of the werewolves growled.

"Finish it! Kill him now!"

_Yes. Kill me. Trap yourselves like this forever. And I will maybe see my son and daughter again._

The spirit was not that merciful, and it bade the wolf to stand down. It preached mercy, but mercy was an easy thing to preach when it served the ulterior motive. The spirit wanted freedom from its form, and had made the werewolves believe they wanted the same. Without it, they probably would have been content to spend their days fighting and rutting and occasionally attacking the unlucky traveller who crossed their paths.

He looked down at the ground. The patterned dais was cracked and almost overgrown by vines, but he could still see some of the imagery beneath. Elves who had lived even before he had done had made their home here, beneath the ground. Now animals squatted in the ruins, with no thought for what had come before. "I cannot do as you ask, spirit. I am too old to know mercy. All I see are the faces of my children, my people. I...I cannot do it."

"Yes you can." Jaiden's voice was blunt, and he turned his head to study her. Scratches covered her face and she was obviously exhausted from the trials of the last few days, but she was still upright, still willing to defy him rather than searching for the easiest end to this. She could murder him and use the werewolves as her allies instead. She chose differently. "Enough is enough, Zathrian."

The elder mage nodded. "Your vengeance will be the undoing of your clan. What is all your effort worth if this feud only costs more of your people's lives?"

They'd made the point before. Only now did it come to settle on him properly. He still wanted every last one of these monsters to suffer for what they'd done over the last few months, but if he'd acquiesced to their request for release earlier...he'd have been dead, but so many would have been spared. He had allowed himself to be blinded and he realised, for the first time, that his children would have been ashamed of him.

"Perhaps I have...lived too long. This hatred in me is like an ancient, gnarled root...it has consumed my soul." He could not get rid of it, but he felt the weight of it like he had never done before. He felt so tired, so old. His gaze drifted towards the spirit. Fear of his own end had played some part in his refusal to end the curse. The Lady seemed to have no such qualms.

"I have known pain and love, hope and fear, all the joy that is life. Yet of all things I desire nothing more than an end. I beg you, maker...put an end to me. We beg you...show mercy."

An end...would be good. Not to have to live with the pain of his failure any longer, to wake up in the night with his son and daughter's bloodied faces dancing before his eyes. He had thought it a strength not to succumb to the urge to end it before. Now he wondered if it might not have been a weakness after all. He could feel his heart thudding around the arrow still buried in his shoulder and a weariness that went down to his bones. "It is time, I think. Jaiden." The Warden tilted her head at him. "Hand me my staff, please."

Jaiden looked warily at him, but the Lady nodded and she went to pick it up, before placing it carefully in his hands. He managed a brief smile for her. "Would that you had been born a Dalish, child." She would have been pride of the clan lucky enough to have her. He turned back to to the Lady. "Let us put an end to it all."

He straightened, as much as he was able. The magic that bound him to the spirit was strong, and he felt it so keenly here, the line between it and himself. He could see the thread, and lifted his staff, preparing to severe it.

The faces of everyone he'd known passed through his mind. His wife, his children. The many he had helped rear and train and lead over the centuries. The people he'd loved and lost. The pain he'd endured, the joy he had felt. He said goodbye to it all, and brought his staff sharply against the ground.

He felt himself falling, felt the soft hands that caught him, and saw the light streaming through the broken ceiling. He let out his last breath, the sweet sound of his children's voices in his ears, and was gone.

* * *

In death, Zathrian looked smaller, as though his soul had been filling out his skin and now there was nothing left to do that. Jaiden shut his eyes and looked up as the werewolves gathered around the Lady. There was something in the beastly faces that looked tender, sorrowful even, and Jaiden willingly leaned into Leliana as the bard crouched beside her and put an arm around her shoulders, swallowing back the lump in her throat.

White light filled the room, so intense that Jaiden had to cover her eyes. When the light stopped seeping through her fingers and the strange, otherworldly breeze had died away, she dropped her hands again. The spirit was gone. Where there had been werewolves were now dozens of completely unclothed people, apparently giving no thought to their state of undress. Swiftrunner had turned into a man not that different from the wolf, tall and burly with thick hair on his chest. Jaiden tried to keep her focus on his eyes as he spoke. The curse had left a mark; the irises were the golden of the wolves. He held his hands out before him, studying them in wonder as he worked the digits. All around the others affected by the curse prodded and poked at themselves and each other, marvelling at their new forms. Jaiden looked around for Alistair, but did not immediately spot him, and had to return her attention to the – was it right to still call him an alpha? - to Swiftrunner, as he straightened up.

"You broke the curse."

Jaiden shook her head. "I didn't really have much to do with it." Without the others Zathrian would have flattened her like a bug during the fight, assuming she could even have got that far on her own. And she had nearly driven her companions to dangerous levels of exhaustion chasing after Alistair. _Where is he?_

"You and your companions guided Zathrian here, and allowed an end to all of this." He put a foot back and bowed his head, an animal gesture of submission. Many of the others followed suit.

Once again Jaiden experienced a sensation of the uncanny. She had certainly never imagined herself to be in a position with dozens of naked humans bowing to her. It felt uncomfortable. "Stand. I had selfish reasons for it. I needed an end one way or another."

Swiftrunner stood upright again and nodded. "The Blight. We felt the taint creeping across the land. More than one of the pack was lost to the sickness after fighting with the darkspawn. Should you have need of us in your fight, send word and we will come." The smile that pulled at his mouth looked uncomfortable, as though he wasn't used to making shapes with it. "Once we are ready, of course. It will take...time, to adjust to being like this."

"There are pieces of armour scattered all over the ruins." Zevran had been looking very much at home surrounded by all the unclothed people, but now he spoke practically. "That will be enough to ensure modesty, as unnecessary as I wish that measure was." He grinned easily, but his gaze was flitting around in a slightly wary fashion. There was still no sign of Alistair.

"Will you be able to find your way out of the forest?" Leliana addressed Swiftrunner, and Jaiden turned her gaze on the bard. They hadn't had more than a few seconds alone here and there since entering the forest. Jaiden wanted to lean in to her and fall asleep. Anger had managed to sustain her a considerable way but she was no beserker. As if picking up on her thoughts, Leliana's fingers wove with hers, and Jaiden leaned against her shoulder.

Swiftrunner indicated that they would, and that they would find their way to the nearest village to begin their new lives. "After that, you may wish to travel to Redcliffe," Sten contributed. "The arl will welcome new recruits."

That was a good idea, and the plan agreed upon. Jaiden was still uncertain as to how well normal humans would react to these yellow-eyed giants – every one of them was very tall – but as long as they worked hard and made an effort to integrate, it should be fine. Besides, she was too distracted to give it much further thought. "Where is Alistair?"

Swiftrunner bowed his head. "Forgive me." Jaiden's heart lurched for a moment. "He had to be contained. Some come under the curse with more difficulty than others." He left the dais and walked to a door on the far side of the room, his unsteady gait indicating how unused he was to his new feet. He wrapped his hands around the bolt securing the door and pulled it free.

Alistair half-fell out, having apparently been pressed against the door on the other side, and he quickly pulled up sharply, hands covering himself as his face turned crimson. The curse had left its touch on him as well, and hazel eyes were now lit gold. It would have been eerie, if Jaiden had not been so relieved to see him alive. She darted forward and flung her arms around her fellow Warden.

In that moment it really sunk in how desperately she'd wanted him to be alive. He was her brother by dint of the taint in their blood, and the knowledge that he could have been lost if she had gone along with Zathrian's original plan made her feel sick to her stomach. Alistair wound his arms around her as well, and they stood there, swaying for a moment until Alistair cleared his throat.

"Not that I'm not pleased to see you, but this is _really_ uncomfortable." Jaiden let out a hiccoughing laugh as she pulled away from Alistair, allowing the others to crowd around and express relief that he was all right (except for Morrigan, who stayed in the background actually looking mildly amused for once). Alistair's cheeks pinked further at all the attention. "Has anybody got some trousers?"

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And there we go, eight months of brainpain later, this chapter is done. Filler chapter next then it's onto Orzammar!


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